


The Real Treasure

by bkwrm523



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Heist, Horror, Romance, christine/veronica but it's gonna be a side pairing NOT the focus on the main plot, i think, slow burn?, we'll see how it goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-02-27 13:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13249305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bkwrm523/pseuds/bkwrm523
Summary: The Sierra Madre casino and villa was built as the perfect getaway for the wealthy.  When the nuclear bombs fell, everything changed.  Two hundred years later, friends come to investigate the legendary “city of the dead.”





	1. Chapter 1

_Clara stood next to Veronica outside the hidden entrance to the Brotherhood of Steel’s local bunker.  They were surrounded by knights in full power armor, and Veronica could feel the disdain coming off them, a nearly palpable stench that staggered her with its intensity.  Veronica had grown up among them, believed in what they believed in; she could hardly comprehend the current situation. They were demanding that she make a choice, and she didn’t know what to say._

“Ronnie!”  Clara’s voice jolted Veronica out of the recent memory.  

Veronica glanced up at the door.  Her friend Clara was standing there, a friendly smile on her face.  They were both in the Lucky 38, the casino in New Vegas that Clara now owned and ran, in what had been Nevada before the War.  The floor that had been granted to Clara by the previous owner, the floor they were both on, had originally been a high quality suite for VIPs.  When Clara had gained ownership of the casino, she had converted the penthouse into an exclusive bar, and her floor had been converted into about five private rooms for her and her friends, along with a small private bar just for the floor’s residents.  

Veronica wore her usual robes with the hood hanging down her back, and her brown hair was tied into its usual bun.  She had a set of armor given to her by Clara, but it and her weapons lay in their containers in Veronica’s room. Veronica finished her glass of... whatever it was - Whiskey?  She hadn't paid much attention when she'd poured a drink; and fixed her dark brown eyes on Clara. Veronica pushed her thoughts back in her mind and returned her friend’s smile.  Veronica was about an average height for a woman, but Clara was a head shorter; the other woman had to comically climb a little to make it onto the barstools.

“Clara!”  Veronica forced herself to sound cheerful.  “When did you get back? I thought you were running errands for the NCR?”  The New California Republic was an organization based on the West Coast. The War had made all known governments fall apart and die, and raiders consumed much of the continent.  The New California Republic wasn’t perfect, but it was a new democratic government, one that had formed long after the War, and brought with it taxes and law and order. Clara had been born inside its borders back in California, and continued to support it as she’d traveled east.  Clara was a courier, which gave her slight celebrity status and a knack for negotiation.

“Helping Westside with a food shortage, actually.”  Clara replied, settling down in the bar stool next to Veronica.  She smiled at Clara, turning to give her friend her full attention.  Not like she’d been paying much attention to the whiskey, anyway.

Westside and Freeside were local towns on the outskirts of New Vegas, and were considerably poorer.  Clara had been known to run errands for local organizations in each town, trying to help improve conditions there.

“So, I’ve been thinking.”  Clara started.

“That always spells trouble.”  Veronica quipped back with a smile.

“You know how you’re still thinking about the ultimatum the Brotherhood gave you?”  Clara began.

“Tactful.”  Veronica snipped back.

“Hey, I negotiated a treaty between the NCR and a gang.  I’m good at tact.”

“What’s your point?”

“Well, I thought you might want to go on a trip with me!”

“You asked me to come with you for Westside and their food shortage.  Thanks, but I really don’t feel like errand-running right now.”

“This is different, I swear!”  Clara promised. Her long auburn hair, pulled into a messy ponytail, swayed.  Lose strands of hair partially obscured her bright hazel eyes. The eyes that had that look in them whenever Clara promised something impossible.  Something that she’d always somehow follow through with.

That look was one of the reasons Veronica had agreed to come with Clara to begin with, and why she had stayed so long.

“All right, I’ll bite.  How is this one different?”  Veronica asked.

“Listen to this,” Clara stated.  She planted her left arm on the bar between them, her pipboy screen face up, and played with the buttons.  After a moment, the radio spat out a signal.

 _Has your life taken a turn?  Do troubles beset you?_  A woman’s voice, smooth and lovely, began to speak from the pipboy on Clara’s wrist.

“That’s for that casino?”  Veronica asked, frowning down at the pipboy.

“Yep!”

“Clara, I hate to break it to you, but you _own_ a casino.  What, do you wanna expand?”

“No!”  Clara replied, exasperated.  She switched off the radio. “Look, I did some checking into it; it’s called the Sierra Madre casino, supposed to be some huge treasure.”

“You don’t need the money.”

“I don’t _care_ about the money.  Thing is, plenty of people have gone there over the years, looking to find the treasure.   _But nobody has ever come back_.”

“ _That’s_ why you wanna go.”

“Yep!”

“Because it’s supposedly guarded by the dead, is super dangerous, and no one’s ever survived going looking for it.”

“Exactly!”  Clara exclaimed, her eyes bright and excited.

“Look, I get why you’re interested.  This is right up your alley. But how is this supposed to help me?”

“Look, I-” Clara fumbled, stopped, and sighed.  “I’m just asking. You absolutely don’t have to come.  I just thought you might be interested. The thing is…” Clara started again, trailing off and staring at the wall in front of them.  Veronica waited patiently; she knew Clara well enough by now to recognize when she was struggling for the right words.

“A week ago, the Brotherhood, _your_ Brotherhood, asked you to choose between two impossible things, and I know you’re still thinking about it, and I’m not rushing you!  It’s just… being on an adventure, risking your life, getting in trouble - it has a way of making you rethink things. You get to thinking about your priorities, and you find things out about yourself.  Trust me, I do this kinda stuff for fun all the time. I just thought, _if_ you wanted to come with me, this just might help you figure out what’s more important to you.  And if it doesn’t, then at least it’s a distraction.”

“... you’re not going alone?”  Veronica asked after a moment, turning Clara’s words over in her mind.

“Nah, I’m taking Roxie.”  Clara replied, glancing over at her room at the mention of her cyborg rottweiler.

“And if I don’t go?”  Veronica asked; she was still worried about Clara.  This sounded even more dangerous than Clara’s usual hobbies.

“Then I’ll probably ask Boone or something.”  Clara replied casually, shrugging with a shoulder.  Boone, a former sniper for the New California Republic, was Clara’s oldest friend and like a brother.  Veronica relaxed a little; so she didn’t need to worry about Clara running into something alone. The two women sat in silence for a few minutes; Veronica silently considered the situation, and Clara simply sat next to her, the picture of patience.

“Yeah, all right.”  Veronica agreed finally.  Clara let out a happy squeal and hugged Veronica.

“Fantastic!  I’ve already got maps; we’ll leave tomorrow.  Pack for the worst.”

“You mean armor?”  Veronica asked dryly.

“Well, yeah, armor too.  Remember; nobody’s ever come back from there.  Pack for the apocalypse. I wanna be ready.”

***

They did not, in fact, leave for the Sierra Madre the next morning.  Veronica put her foot down, and they spent an extra few days on supplies.  Seeing as Veronica had been responsible for finding supplies for the Brotherhood, she knew a few traders more likely to have rare items.  They visited some, finding pieces of technology and code that Veronica thought might come in handy. Veronica also insisted on telling the rest of their followers of the journey, asking for advice.  Everyone tried to volunteer, but Clara turned them down. She said she wanted to keep the group light, just in case. There had been times and places where a wealth of numbers had been a disadvantage.  Between them, Clara, Roxie, and Veronica could handle most forms of trouble that came their way.

Cass, the former caravan owned, donated some of her personal moonshine and some advice to “not take any crap.”  Cass and Clara had shared a less than platonic smooch as Veronica left the room; there’d probably been a longer goodbye exchange between the two friends.  

Boone, the NCR sniper, inspected all of their weapons, even Veronica’s saturnite-enhanced brass knuckles.  He replaced the weapons that didn’t meet his standard of approval, even pressed a pistol and a rifle onto Veronica “just in case.”  

Arcade Gammon, the doctor who spent his time helping the poor in Freeside and Westside, predictably gave them a wealth of medical supplies.  Lily, the sweet grandmotherly supermutant gave them hugs, and a huge supply of stealth boys. Raul, the ghoul mechanic, contributed to Veronica’s supply of spare parts.  

Lastly, Ed-e, the eyebot, lamented that he didn’t have supplies to give them.  Clara informed Veronica later that the beeps and whistles that had been his parting speech to them meant that he was offering them “a hug.”  Veronica still wasn’t quite sure how he planned on managing that without arms, but let it drop.

***

Once they finally got moving, it took them a couple of days to reach the bunker that Clara had found.

The entrance to the bunker looked like a sewer grate.  It was a square metal hole in the ground with a ladder.  Veronica, Clara, and Roxie paused for a moment around the ladder, peering down.  It wasn’t far; it was light enough inside that they could both see the bottom. Perhaps ten or fifteen feet down to the floor.

“How are we going to get Roxie in?”  Veronica asked, peering uncertainly into the bunker.

“Easy.”  Clara replied.  She took off her pack as she answered, holding it up to the ladder and frowning.  “I’ll climb down first, then you help Roxie jump down, and I’ll catch her. That work for you, sweetie?”  Clara asked the door, looking up at her as she finished speaking. Roxie gave a soft, happy whuff, and wagged her tail.

“All right, then.”  Clara replied to Roxie’s affirmative, smiling at the dog.  “You’ll have to throw the packs down after, though.” She turned back to Veronica, setting her pack down on the ground next to the ladder.  “I don’t think we can fit them and ourselves through it at the same time.”

“Works for me.”  Veronica replied.  

Roxie and Veronica watched as Clara carefully started on the ladder.  She started slowly; there was no way to know how long the bunker had been there.  Possibly as much as two hundred years. The metal was old. Clara stood on the metal lip, and tested the first rung with a foot.  Veronica reached out for one of Clara’s arms, outstretched for balance, and held it tightly in case she fell. Clara spared a quick smile, but didn’t take her eyes off the ladder she was testing.  A minute or so later, Clara was descending carefully down the ladder.

“All right down there?”  Veronica called.

“Yeah.”  Clara replied.  “The lights are even still working, somehow.  Ready, Roxie?” Roxie whined anxiously. The dog stood at the top of the ladder, peering down and shifting her weight anxiously.  “Don’t be afraid, sweetie! It’s okay! It’s not far, and I swear I’ll catch you!” Ronnie reached over and pet the dog gently, trying to help soothe her nerves.

“You’ll be fine, Roxie.”  Veronica murmured to Roxie as she pet the dog.  “We wouldn’t ask you to do this if we didn’t think it’d be safe.  It’s not far.”

Roxie whuffed gratefully at Veronica, turning to lick her hand once.  She settled down, then shifted her weight again, readying to jump. Veronica helped lower the anxious dog into position, and then she fell… right into Clara’s waiting arms.  Roxie yipped happily, licking her human’s face and drawing giggles from Clara. Veronica waited for Clara to lower Roxie to the ground, before tossing their packs down and following them into the bunker.

It was small; about the size of the bedrooms in the suite Clara had given her friends in the 38.  It was maybe ten feet wide, and about fifteen or twenty feet long. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all the typical pre-War steel, very dirty from time.  There were fragments of posters all over the walls. There was a footlocker near the ladder they’d climbed down with into the bunker, and Clara wasted no time in rummaging through it.  There was a small but wide staircase along the right wall, barely big enough for two people walking side by side, leading down into another dimly lit hallway. On their floor, there was the corpse of a man in a suit.  Somebody had scrawled on the wall in what looked like blood, “gone to Sierra Madre…” While Clara searched the room for anything useful, Roxie stayed close to the ladder and sniffed the floor around her curiously, and Veronica wandered around and studied the posters.  Most were advertisements of prewar, long-dead starlets. The rest were all for the Sierra Madre Casino.

“Charming.”  Veronica spoke, not looking away from her study of the posters.  “You find all the best vacation spots.”

“You’re not ruining this for me,” Clara replied with a grin in her voice.  “This is exciting! Where’s your adventurous spirit?”

“Replaced by my common sense.”  Veronica replied dryly. Really, Clara’s excitement was contagious, but Veronica kept feeling an inexplicable sense of dread.  Although that could have been the ultimatum from the Brotherhood of Steel hanging over Veronica’s head.

“Well, good thing you’ve got enough of that for both of us.”  Clara cracked, standing up after rummaging through the dead man’s pockets.  Veronica couldn’t stop herself from laughing at that one.

“Well, since we’re on an adventure, allow me to resort to the cliche: Clara!  Why were you going through that dead man’s pockets! It’s so disrespectful!” Veronica exclaimed, her voice deliberately wooden as she pretended to lecture her friend.  Clara snickered at Veronica’s antics.

“One, he doesn’t need his caps anymore.  And two, if we’re going to survive this adventure, we’re going to need every clue we can get.”  Clara replied, playing along. Bottlecaps from glass bottles, rather than paper money, were the standard currency after the War.  However people had managed to manufacture the paper money, it wasn’t possible to make them anymore. Not exactly as they were, anyway.  Besides which, they served as a reminder of everything that was wrong about pre-War society. Bottlecaps were difficult and dangerous to scavenge, much like everything about post-War life, and just as difficult and dangerous to manufacture.

“Anything good?”

“Nah, all I found is he had a smoking habit.”  Clara replied, stuffing a beaten pack of cigarettes into her pocket.

“What, you’re going to smoke the cigarettes of a dead man?”

“No!  Gross!  I just thought they might come in handy.”

The two women quarreled amicably as they proceeded down the stairs, Roxie staying close on their heels.  Normally, Veronica wore a hood and nondescript robe. But at Boone’s urging, she currently wore a set of combat armor.  And the hood, hiding most of her brown hair, pulled back as usual. Lily had tried to get her to bring a hat of some kind, but Veronica had insisted on the hood.  A touch of the familiar, she supposed.

The walls they proceeded through were made of the same dirty steel they’d entered into.  They came to an intersection in the hallway; the fork in front of them led to a room with only a radio on a small table visible through the doorway.  The other led to a small, narrow room on their left. They’d have to walk closer to tell what secrets it held; all that was visible from their point was the far wall.  Veronica glared at the doorway with the radio, the sense of dread in her belly overcoming her good sense.

“Come on,” Clara said before Veronica could indicate a passageway.  Clara forged ahead to the room with the radio. Veronica shook her head; of _course_ Clara was more curious about the radio.  Roxie barked excitedly, wagging her tail and eagerly trotting behind Clara.  The radio blared quietly; it was a female voice, and neither woman could quite make out what it was saying.  It sounded like the same voice on the familiar Sierra Madre radio advertisement, however, so it was easy to guess what the woman was saying.  Veronica and Roxie stayed close on Clara’s heels, something about the place making everyone cautious.

Clara could see six beds built into the wall as they got closer to the room, with a footlocker for each of them.  There were three beds evenly spaced along the wall to their right as they entered, and three more evenly spaced to their left.  The beds were sparse, with no blankets, and bolted to the wall with no headboards or footboards. A white fitted sheet covered the mattresses, grimy with age and use and lack of washing, and a single pillow lying at one end of the bed.  The trio hesitated for a moment at the doorway. The entire room resembled a time capsule, a window into the past that had destroyed the world.

“This place is creepy.”  Veronica spoke first.

“I’m fairly sure you said that already.”

“Why are the beds there?”

“I don’t know, but you couldn’t pay me to use them.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean why not?”  Clara replied. “Look at them!  They look filthy!”

“We’ve camped in the dirt before, slept on the ground, and you’re complaining about how often they’re cleaned?”

“They’re probably rotted away under there, and haven’t been cleaned for 200 years.  When we camp, we take precautions to get rid of bugs. Who knows what’s living in there?”

“...okay, you have a point.”

Roxie took a tentative step forward, putting one paw into the room, then glancing back at Clara and Ronnie for approval.  Clara gave her a single nod, and she and Veronica followed Roxie into the room. Veronica didn’t move once she stepped into the room, just trying to take everything in.  Clara scanned the room, eyes alert for anything useful. Her eyes kept coming back to the radio, though. Something about it held her attention. As soon as they were all in the room with the radio, the door slid shut behind them with a click of the lock engaging.  Clara reacted instantly, whipping out her lockpicks and starting on the door. Veronica glanced behind them, watching for enemies approaching through any hidden doors.

Before Clara could make it far on the lock, a reddish gas puffed out of the ceiling right above them.  Before either of them could speak, they were all passed out on the floor.

_Welcome to the Sierra Madre_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara and Veronica (and Roxie) find out why they’re there, and meet some of the locals.

Clara wasn’t usually slow to wake up; too many years on the road made it a survival trait to be alert quickly.  But, probably because of the gas, it took her a minute this time.

She was lying on her back on cold stone ground outside.  Her eyes fluttered open, staring up at the gloomy gray sky.  There was a solid layer of thick clouds, shrouding Clara in a permanent state of gloom, and making it utterly impossible to tell what time of day it was.  Or even if it was daytime.  Clara glanced next to hear, confirming with her eyes the heavy weight of Roxie laying against her side.  Clara sat up, hearing a groan from behind her.  She turned to look, and saw Veronica laying there.  Clara felt a rush of relief; her friends were both okay, good.

It was about then that Clara noticed a few things.  She stood suddenly, cussing as she wobbled and leaned on the empty fountain next to them.

“Whazzit?”  Ronnie muttered blearily, pushing herself in a sitting position.  Roxie woke then, too; she sat up and gazed at Clara quizzically.

“My pack’s empty.”  Clara declared, sitting down on the edge of the fountain.

“What?!”  That woke Ronnie up.  She swiveled, pulling her pack in front of her as she rummaged through it.  It took the two women moments to do an inventory.  All the travel rations they packed were intact, but the fruit and other treats they’d packed were gone.  Most of the medical supplies were still there; Arcade had pitched a small fit when he found out what Clara was planning, and found some top shelf medical supplies for them to bring.  About all that was missing from the medical supplies, were the various powders and mixtures that they made at the campfire.  The stuff made from various local plants; all that was gone.  The weapons, armor, clothes,  _everything_  else was missing.  They were both wearing white jumpsuits, similar to the vault suits, with a large red X on the back.  Mercifully, Clara’s pipboy was still there and undamaged.  In Clara’s rifle holster was some sort of holo rifle, and enough ammunition for it for a small army.  Ronnie’s saturnite brass knuckles were intact and still on her fist.  But the rifle Boone had provided for her was missing; in its place, was an odd spear with a knife attached to one end.  

“Listen to me.”  A male voice came from behind them.  There was an odd quality about it; it didn’t sound quite natural.

“Voice changer,” Ronnie muttered.  

They both turned to face the fountain; where before had been the image of a woman repeating the broadcast they’d both heard endlessly by now.  Now, there was the projected image of a man’s face.  There was no telling who he was; if he’d gone through the trouble to use a voice changer, Clara doubted that it was the face of whoever was speaking.  The face projected had long, wild brown hair and a short beard peppered with gray.

“From now on, you do as I tell you.  Try to leave, play stupid, think you’re clever?  I’ll blow up those collars on your neck.”  The strange man continued.  Both Clara and Ronnie immediately felt their necks, confirming the presence of the strange, thick metal collars on both of them.  A quick glance confirmed that Roxie didn’t have one.

“Who are you?  How did we get here?”  Clara demanded.

“You may call me Elijah.”  The voice replied.  “As for how you got here, you followed the Sierra Madre signal right into one of my traps into the Mojave.  Those collars on your neck are just like your pipboy; only filled with explosives.  I found them with a little radio at an Old World cache, just needed a little tuning.

“If you do what I say, the collars stay off.  If you refuse, disobey me, or try to leave, then I’ll kill you both and find someone else.  There is no-” Elijah continued to drone on.

“Fuck’s sake, we  _get it!_ ”  Clara interrupted, rolling her eyes.  “We’re your prisoners, totally at your mercy.  We fucking  _understand_  already, get to the point.  What do you want?”

There was a moment of charged silence where Ronnie was internally wincing.  She trusted Clara, but there were times…

“For the record,” Elijah finally responded, making Ronnie internally relax.  “As long as you do what I say, I don’t care if you sass or not.”

“Thank you.”  Ronnie said, relieved.  For someone who was a proven great negotiator, sometimes Clara’s mouth ran away with her.

“Hmmmph.”  Elijah barely acknowledged Ronnie’s words.  “Now, look up.  The structure above the fountain-”

“The Sierra Madre casino.”  Clara interrupted again.  “Old World hideaway, the bombs fell before it could open.  It’s supposed to have a fortune up there, but the myth is, it’s guarded by the dead.  No one’s ever come back alive.”

“Are you quite finished?”  Elijah demanded.

“Hey, I just don’t wanna spend a half hour being redundant.  That’s what we already know.”  Clara replied.

“Well, you’re going to break in.  This is… a heist.  I spent too many years planning this for it to be fouled up, so you’d best listen to my instructions if you want to live.  To get inside and avoid the traps, you’ll need a team.”

“You may have noticed, there’s three of us.”  Veronica chimed in.

“Two.”  Elijah replied.  “As the dog doesn’t possess opposable thumbs, it will not be helpful.”

“I think he’s a cat person,” Clara muttered to Ronnie, drawing a snort from the other woman.

“Around the villa, are three other collars like yours; collars eight, twelve, and fourteen.  Find all three and get them here, to the Fountain.  After that, I’ll have more instructions for you.

“And just in case you get any ideas about murdering your partners and taking the treasure for yourself, a word of warning.  All of your collars are linked.  If one of you dies, you all die.  If that’s what it takes to make you people cooperate, then so be it.”

“Geez.”  Ronnie muttered.  “What kinda people is he used to dealing with?”

“The kinda people who’d come to a lethal casino for a legendary score of caps.”  Clara replied in a low voice.  

“Good point.”

“What else do we need to know?”  Clara asked Elijah; it surprised Ronnie a little how easily Clara was adjusting to all this.  Cracking stupid jokes, turning all business as she asked Elijah questions as easily as if this were an ordinary job.

“Beware the radios and speakers around the town.”  Elijah intoned.  “They emit a signal that interferes with your bomb collars.  If you get too close to one that’s switched on, your collar will start beeping.  If you don’t get out of range in time, the radios will prematurely blow up your collar.”

“Charming.”  Clara replied, expressionless.  “Anything else?”

“And where’s our gear?”  Veronica added.

“Your possessions were taken by the security systems of the Sierra Madre.  I have attempted to disable these systems, but I was, regrettably, unsuccessful.

“The other danger is the cloud.  It is a noxious vapor that clouded the sky and turned the inhabitants of this place into the walking dead you will see roaming the villa.  The cloud roams the villa as well; it is visible as a red cloud of gas.  Do not venture inside the clouds, or you will become one of the walking dead.”

“I regret that I was unable to prevent the loss of your possessions, but you will find additional armor and weapons in the villa’s police station.  There you will also find the most obedient of your three companions as well, so I recommend seeking out the supermutant first.”

“How will we find them?”  Clara asked.

“The map on your pipboy has been updated to show the locations of all three.  One thing further; your bomb collars also contain radios.  You may use them to eavesdrop on your companions, communicate with them, communicate with me.  Should you become lost, consult me and I shall direct you.”

“Got it.”  Clara told him. Then she and Ronnie turned away from the fountain and consulted Clara’s pipboy.

“So, do you want to hit the police station first, like Elijah suggested?”  Ronnie asked.

Clara bit her lip and thought for a moment, before she shook her head.  She was focusing on the situation at hand, but… it still rankles to be forced to work for this asshole.  Clara wasn’t feeling particularly obedient.

“No.”  Clara declared firmly.  “We may be stuck working for this asshole, but we don’t have to do everything his way.”  Clara’s pipboy was still on the map, three glowing arrows pointing out the locations of the other three companions.  Clara stared at the one indicating the supermutant at the police station a moment longer, then jabbed a finger at one of the other two at random.  “Let’s get that one first.”

 

* * *

 

Clara had picked, at random, collar 14.  It was in the residential district.  The streets were narrow and winding, easy to get lost in.  Clara was fairly certain that they’d have to ask Elijah for directions a few times.  But the path to the residential district wasn’t far.

“Picking up traps near your location - detonators.”  Elijah’s voice came through Clara’s collar.  “Watch your step.”

“He couldn’t just say mines?”  Clara muttered quietly.  

So far, Clara and Veronica kept talking to a minimum.  Even Elijah, long winded as he was, barely spoke.  And when he warned them about the mines, his voice was soft.

“Why is he using the collars to talk to us?”  Ronnie hissed softly as they moved slowly forward towards collar 14.  

“Same reason we’re whispering.”  Clara replied softly.  “Just something about this place.”

“Or it might be because excessive sound draws hoards of the dead, you blockheads.”  Elijah cut in, his voice still soft.

Clara felt a bit dumber at that comment.  Should have occurred to her.

“When they attack you, be sure to sever a limb.”  Elijah offered.  “Else they’ll just get back up.”

“Fantastic.”  Clara replied dryly.

“Heads up,” Clara said moments later.  In front of them, in the only path ahead, was a large cloud of red mist obscuring the square.

“Gotta be that cloud stuff he warned us about.”  Ronnie commented.  It was a seething, angry red haze that somehow seemed full of malevolence.  They stared at it for a long moment, entranced despite themselves, before Clara shook herself.

“Come on.”  Clara told Ronnie softly.

Slowly, they proceeded up a nearby set of stairs into a ruined apartment.  The apartment led to a long balcony that spanned several buildings.  On the way, Clara found and disarmed a drag mine, a pressure plate, two rigged shotguns, and a grenade bouquet hanging from the ceiling.

“Whoever collar 14 is, they’re paranoid.”  Clara muttered darkly.  Having to move slowly to watch for traps wasn’t helping them any.  

“I almost wish we’d run into those walking dead cloud freaks we heard about.”  Ronnie whispered to Clara.  “I hate all this tension, the waiting.”

“I get the feeling that running into the cloud freaks will change your mind fast.”  Clara replied.

They walked around the perimeter of the cloud filled square, carefully avoiding the red haze and disarming more traps at every step.  The balcony led to another building, leading to another balcony, and so forth.  They traversed the area on the second floor of buildings.  Almost all of the streets were covered in cloud.  A couple times, the only safe path was covered in a thin patch of cloud.  Clara and Ronnie gave each other a glance full of words, neither quite willing to speak aloud in such a haunted place, then made a mad dash through it.

Clara privately wondered why their coughing afterwards didn’t draw the creatures to them.  Furthermore, why hadn’t they seen any walking dead yet?  The villa was supposed to be crawling with them, and they hadn’t run into one yet.

Finally, they made it to a balcony that led to a drop down to a clear path of street, directly onto a pressure plate.

“Wait here till I disarm it,” Clara whispered, passing Ronnie her holorifle.  Ronnie nodded wordlessly, blocking Roxie from following Clara down to the street, and passed Clara her spear.

Clara twisted as she fell, narrowly avoiding both the pressure plate and a nearby patch of cloud, and landed nimbly into a crouch as she bent over the pressure plate.  It’d take her only a moment to disarm it.

Clara heard the holorifle fire over her shoulder, and took a moment to be thankful she’d thought to give it to Ronnie.  Clara quickly disarmed the pressure plate, just as the nearby walker’s head exploded.  She stared down at it as Veronica and Roxie crept  down from the second floor balcony.

The corpse was long dead and rotting, looked nothing like the ghouls, feral or civilized, that everyone ran into in the wastes.  But there wasn’t much of the corpse visible, as it was encased in some kind of hazmat looking suit.

“Chemical suits,” Clara muttered as she and Ronnie exchanged weapons.  She murmured a thanks to her friend for the save as an afterthought.

“You recognize those?”  Ronnie asked softly.

“Yeah.  Think I came across what’s left of the factory that made those suits,” Clara explained, nudging the corpse with a foot.  

“Anything helpful?”

“Nah.  Just solves a minor mystery with the suits and the cloud.”

“You’ll have to tell me when we make it out of here,” Veronica said with a weak smile.  Clara’s answering smile was equally weak, and a little green.

“Only if you like spooky stories.”

“I might have to pass, then.  This right here is enough spooky to do me for awhile.”

They carried on, Roxie padding soundlessly next to them, through the narrow street into a small courtyard.  In the courtyard was a single stairway leading up into a two story house.  Naturally, Clara made a quick scan of what was left of the place, scavenging anything useful, before they proceeded up the stairs, following the sound of someone singing “something’s gotta give” over a holotape.

They reached the top floor, containing only a bedroom.  The bed was pushed against the corner to their right.  The wall in front of them had a massive hole in it, wide enough for two people to go through at a time and room to spare.  Facing the hole were two red lounge chairs, with a small end table between them containing a radio that crooned the song.

A ghoul sat in the chair to the left.  His back was to them, and he didn’t turn to face them.  He was wearing, Clara could see as they approached and went around the chairs to face him, a tuxedo complete with bow tie.  It had clearly been the best quality, once.  Before the war.  His eyes, shrouded by sunglasses, watched them as they came into his view.

And he wore a bomb collar identical to theirs.

“Have a seat,” Collar 14 purred at her, gesturing to the seat next to him.  There was a slight British accent in his voice, and his words were annunciated.  “Came all this way, least I can do is let you rest your feet for a second.”  Roxie, who’d been quiet so far, gave a low growl at Collar 14.

“Roxie, no.”  Clara told the dog, her voice firm but soft.  “He’s a friend.”  At her words, the dog quieted.  Collar 14 swiveled to give the dog a delighted look.

“My word, I haven’t seen a doggie in an age!  May I?”  Collar 14 asked politely, gazing back at Clara as he waited for permission.  Clara smiled softly, then nodded.

“Come here, Roxie.  It’s okay.”  Clara reassured the dog.  Roxie hesitated, then padded forward and stood uncertainly between the two.  “It goes without saying, I’m sure.  But just to be clear; hurt her and I hurt you.”

“Of course, and I take no offense.  It’s a low worm that’d hurt a friendly dog.  I was quite a dog person, once.  Not too many dogs make it to the Madre, though, and those that do are… less friendly than your charming girl, here.”  Collar 14 replied glibly.  He reached out and gently ruffled the fur on Roxie’s neck.  “Can’t say I’ve seen a dog with her headpiece, though.  I imagine it’s more than just a hat?”  Roxie had a small metal disc covering her head, with an unbreakable glass dome sealing in what looked like a brain.

“Where I got her is a long story; prewar tech.  But she’s a cyberdog.  Dog spliced with a robot.  Makes her more intelligent than most dogs.”  Clara replied.  She moved, sitting on the chair.

“I’d be delighted to hear the tale someday.   _If_  we make it out of here, that is.  By the by, I do hope you’re enjoying the view?  It’s quite lovely.”  Collar 14 let go of Roxie, drawing a large sigh from the dog, and gave Clara a sidelong glance as Veronica hovered in the back, waiting uncertainly for the result of the conversation.  It was difficult to tell through the sunglasses, but Clara got the distinct impression that he was sizing her up.

“You’re certainly less confused than the others.  At least you’re still alive.  That’s an accomplishment, here.”  He paused for breath, looking down at her jumpsuit.  “Interesting choice of fashion.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?”  Clara quipped back.  “It’s the latest fashion in the Madre.   _All_  the tourists are wearing it.”

“And it comes with a complementary necklace, I see.  By the way, don’t get up or make any sudden movements.”  Collar 14’s voice stayed light, but a hint of malevolence entered it.  “The cushion’s just for show.”

“Better be a shaped charge, or you’ll kill all of us.”  Clara shot back quickly.

Collar 14 gave a short laugh at that, making Clara smile.  “Sounds like you’ve done a bit of work in your lifetime.  How nice to speak to an informed audience, for once.  Now, try to get up without my permission, and I’ll blast your ass so far through your head, it’ll turn the moon cherry pie red.”  Veronica and Roxie froze at the threat, and Clara made a quick gesture for Ronnie to stay put.

“Blasting my ass on the first date?  You could at least buy me dinner first.”  Clara quipped back.  She sat back in the chair, getting comfortable, and kept her eyes on Collar 14.  “Or we could start with a name?”

Collar 14 laughed again, longer this time.  “A tourist with a sense of humor, here?  How delightful.  It’s a wonder that the Madre hasn’t beaten it out of you yet.  I may enjoy this, if you don’t force me to kill you.  As for the name, do forgive me.  It’s been too long since I’ve had to rely on the social graces.  The name’s Dean Domino, pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Clara.”  The courier replied.  “You’ve met Roxie, and that’s Veronica back there.”

“Hi.”  Veronica said weakly.  The conversation was getting odd enough that it was difficult for her to follow.  As a Brotherhood scout, she was certainly no slouch in the brain department; she knew more about old world tech than most of the Brotherhood, and certainly more than Clara.  But she’d never had Clara’s way with words.

Clara had to actively suppress her reaction.  Not too many holotapes of prewar singers had survived the War.  Dean Domino was certainly one of them.  Not too many of his works had survived, but what little there was had made him a household name everywhere that Clara had traveled.  She never imagined that he might’ve survived the war.  And to be here for 200 years; if he hadn’t been proficient with weapons before the war, he’d certainly learned quickly.

“Please, tell us what you want.”  Clara said, pulling out all of her charm.

“Ahh, that’s what I’ve missed; a rapt audience.”  Dean replied with a smirk.  “Underestimate me at your peril, my dear; working in entertainment doesn’t make me an idiot.  I heard my new necktie beeping, and I know what that means; I’m part of this somehow.  I want.  Out.”

“I’d love to oblige, but I’m afraid I don’t have any way to let you leave, at least until we accomplish what he wants us to do.  He said he’d let us go when he’s gotten what he wants, if you can believe that.”

“A fellow cynic.”  Dean smiled and inclined his head at her.  “It’s clear we have a common enemy, but that doesn’t always make one friends.  I’d much rather you be on my side than his, so here’s the deal.  I want what’s in the Madre, and you want out.”

“I can live with that.  Partners?”  Clara offered.

“Partners.”  Dean gave her a predatory smile that nearly made her shiver.  Then she nearly started out of her chair; since all her troubles in the Mojave, it had been an age and a half since someone touched that part of her.  The last thing she expected was to be attracted to someone here.  Probably just the adrenaline talking.

Although… he certainly did have some sort of charm…

Clara squashed the thought and clasped Dean’s offered hand.  He gently pulled her to her feet, with no explosion following her standing.

“We don’t have to take the long way back.  There’s a shortcut across the way, you see?”  Dean pointed out the window.  There was an awning out of the window with a gentle descent leading to a short drop to the ground.  “It’s through the Cloud, but if I’m with you, I can help you through it.”

“You can what?”  Veronica asked skeptically.

“You may have noticed, my dear, that I’m not exactly an ordinary human anymore.  Whatever happened to me, it granted me a few… extraordinary abilities.  For a time, I can protect you from the effects of the Cloud.  Not for long, however.”  Dean explained to Veronica.  Clara had traveled far in the wastes as a courier, and a ghoul with odd abilities wasn’t the most unusual thing she’d seen.

Dean moved out the hole in the wall, perching on the awning and glancing back at them.  Clara glanced back at Veronica for a moment, confirming her presence, and followed Dean.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team gets underway, and attempts to recruit another member.

Three sets of feet landed on the ground under Dean’s apartment, followed by a set of doggie feet.  The courtyard they’d landed in was a bit smaller than the one on the other side of the building.  There was one exit from this courtyard, by means of a locked gate on the opposite side.  There was a small fountain against the wall of Dean’s building, just like the other small fountains littered throughout the villa.  Clara made a beeline for the fountain, collecting all the Sierra Madre chips in it.

“Do you  _have_ to keep doing that?”  Veronica asked, a little exasperated.

“If it makes you feel any better, I promise not to do it while we’re in the cloud.”  Clara replied.

“Why do you keep collecting those things?”  Veronica asked.

“I just have a gut feeling that they’ll come in handy.”  Clara replied, grabbing the last of the coins from the fountain.

“Actually,” Dean chimed in.  “Sinclair bought these vending machines, put them everywhere.  With a few chips, you can buy any basic food supply you might need.  Rumor has it, you can get weapons and medical supplies in there, but those were for the staff, so you need the right code to get them.”

“We’ll keep our eyes peeled.”  Clara said as they moved towards the gate.  “We might come across those codes.  In the meantime, we brought plenty of travel rations that made it through.  We’ll use those for now, and save our chips in case we can get stimpacks or something.”

Dean pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the gate.  On the other side was a narrow street filled with the gas.  The dense gas made it impossible to see more than a few feet down the street.  The party paused just on the safe side of the gas.  After learning about the gas, it wasn’t easy to make themselves run into it.  Dean waited patiently for the women to gather themselves.

“Remember, I can’t shield you for long.”  Dean reminded them.  “We’ll have to move fast.”

“Let’s get back to the main area of the villa.”  Clara addressed the group.  “There’s not as many cloud pockets there, and we can decide then where we’re going next.

“One more thing.  If we get attacked in there, don’t engage.  Keep moving to the next patch of clean air.  If they follow us, we can fight back from there.”  Clara continued.

“Whatever you say, partner.”  Dean acknowledged, his voice still tinged with sarcastic humor.  Veronica gave a nod, and Roxie a soft yip of confirmation.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Dean.”  Clara asked him, her voice soft and earnest.  Dean Domino clearly already didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, and Clara was eager to earn the trust of her new companions.  She’d been leading groups of her friends around the wastes for awhile now, and she’d learned how necessary trust was.  Besides, there was something about Dean.  She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.  “We’ll be right behind you.”

“I’d be delighted.”  Dean replied, even giving a slight bow that startled a giggle out of Clara.

The group followed Dean into the cloud, and were enveloped.

Before, the group had briefly passed through edges of the cloud on the way to Dean. It had only been for a second or two, but that had been enough to set off coughing fits upon reaching safety.  Besides, there was just something about it that filled them all with dread.  Venturing into the middle of a patch of cloud, however, proved to be an entirely different experience.

Clara internally braced herself as she plunged in after Dean.  She could feel the cloud around her, just like her brief plunges before.  Only this time, she could actually feel Dean’s protection surrounding her.  It was difficult to describe; similar to how Clara had felt when she’d put on her first set of real combat armor.  Warm, safe, protected.  Yes, the world was still a dangerous place, but suddenly she was slightly less vulnerable.  Still, being in the cloud was unnerving.

Their first trip through the cloud was mercifully brief; the street had led to a tiny courtyard, and now they paused in a clean patch of air in a hallway about five paces long which led to an identical tiny courtyard filled with the cloud.

“Sure left a lot of traps around here,” Dean remarked idly as they paused for a moment.  His voice, Clara was noticing, had an odd lyrical quality to it.  Probably shouldn’t have surprised her, as he had been quite the famous singer, once.  Something about his cadence, she thought.  “Sometimes I forget where they all are.”  Dean continued his thought.

Clara stopped dead and gave Dean a look, arching one brow.  She couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.  He gave her a knowing smirk, which didn’t shed light on it at all.

“That’s not the most comforting thing you’ve said, Dean.”  Clara told him.  The grin on his face widened.

“Shall we continue?”  Was Dean’s only response.  Clara shook her head, not quite able to suppress the smile on her face, and made an ‘after you’ gesture.  Dean strode forward into the next patch of cloud, the rest of the group close on his heels.  His protection, they assumed, must have a range.  And no one was eager to test its range.

“This is our last bit of cloud before the door,” Dean murmured quietly as they moved forward.

The group rounded a corner, and the only warning was a low snarl before a walker fell into the group.  Clara glanced up just in time, and it took her less than a second to see that the walker was going to fall on Veronica.  Clara moved quickly, bumping Veronica with her hip and sending her careening into Dean.  The walker dropped in front of Clara, and the courier had time to get two quick punches to its shoulder before it was on her, forcing her to grapple.  A second walker appeared around a corner, making for Clara before anyone could react.

“Dean, get them out of here!”  Clara yelled.  Together they could easily defeat the two; however, Dean had warned them that his protection wouldn’t last for long.  They didn’t reply, and Clara couldn’t turn to see if they obeyed.

But Clara felt it the instant she was out of range of Dean’s protection.  Her next breath drew cloud into her lungs.  Although she could hardly afford to, she started to cough almost instantly.  It may have been a bit melodramatic, but with every passing breath, her lungs were laboring more.  She started to cough harder as her lungs struggled in vain to repel what was afflicting them.  Her grappling with the walker grew weaker, and the walker behind her (from the way his helmet was bumping her, Clara suspected it was trying to bite her through its rebreather) started trying to grab her arms.  Clara’s eyes filled with tears until she could barely see.

Her first indication that something had changed, was the sound.  The gunfire was unmistakable.  There were a few shots, Clara wasn’t sure how many, and the walker behind her jerked with each one, until its weight against her disappeared and she heard its thunk as it fell to the ground.  There was a moment of silence, footsteps.  And then suddenly, she could feel Dean’s protection from the cloud envelop her, like a warm blanket on a cold day.  Clara gave a ragged gasp, and then proceeded to have a coughing fit almost bending her double.  The remaining walker gave a snarl of glee, before another flurry of shots rang out, and it fell to the ground.

Dean didn’t speak; he came up to her, pulled her up straight, and wrapped an arm around her waist, pinning her to his body.  Clara didn’t speak either, just clung to him and kept coughing.  Dean set off immediately, walking at a quick pace that would have been punishing and a bit cruel for Clara’s state, if it hadn’t been for his warning that he couldn’t protect them for very long.

They emerged from the cloud not long after; Clara could still barely see with her eyes tearing, but she could taste the cleaner air, feel the cloud’s absence.  Dean slowed, and Clara heard Veronica call her name in relief.  Dean leaned her against a wall, keeping his hands on her waist and shoulders, holding her steady as Clara continued to cough.

“We don’t have any stimpacks…” Veronica muttered; from the soft noises coming from her, Clara guessed she was rummaging through her pack.  “I don’t think any of our medical supplies left will help… here, let me get her water canteen.”

“Not just yet.”  Dean told Veronica, his voice gentle but firm.  “Let her finish coughing before she tries to drink anything.”

“Too bad none of Cas’ moonshine made it through.”  Veronica tried to joke, her voice a little strained.  Roxie pressed against Clara’s side, whining softly and licking Clara’s pant leg.  Clara dropped a hand to ruffle her dog’s fur, wanting to reassure her.

“Thanks,” Clara finally croaked once her lungs calmed down.

“My pleasure.”  Dean replied smoothly.  “Veronica, I believe she could use that canteen now.”

Veronica gently nudged Clara until she was leaning forward, Clara’s head practically resting on Dean’s shoulder, until Veronica could reach Clara’s pack.  It didn’t take much rummaging; the Madre had taken so many of their possessions, the packs were nearly empty.  Clara raised a hand to try and clear her eyes, but Dean beat her to it, brushing the tears of irritated allergies off her cheeks.  Clara blinked hard a few times until her eyes cleared.  Veronica pushed a canteen into Clara’s hands, the cap already unscrewed and off.

“Not too much,” Dean warned her.  She was a little touched by how protective he already was, even though they had only just met.  “Veronica warned me about our bomb collars being linked.”  So  _that_ was why he was so protective.  Clara felt a tiny surge of disappointment, and quickly suppressed it.  She leaned back against the wall, taking a small sip of water and closing her eyes.

Veronica cleared her throat quietly, drawing the attention of her companions.  “When you’re ready, we should get going.”  Veronica suggested.  Looking up for the first time since emerging from the cloud, Clara saw that Dean had brought them back to the entrance gate to of the residential area.

“You’re right.”  Clara said, heaving herself off the wall.  For a instant, Dean didn’t move, and their faces were uncomfortably close.  Then Dean blinked and stepped back, releasing her and giving her space.

“Can we  _please_ go to the police station next?”  Veronica asked.  “Elijah said there’d be armor and weapons there.  I feel naked.”

“We could certainly do with the extra supplies.”  Dean chimed in.  “Although I’ll thank you not to attempt to put me in any armor.  I paid a small fortune for this suit; I’m keeping it.”

Clara giggled again, then had a small coughing fit.  “Don’t make me laugh,” Clara groaned.  “My lungs still hurt.”

“I will attempt to restrain myself, oh fearless leader.”

This time, Veronica joined the giggles, and Clara smacked Dean on the arm and gave him a half-hearted glare.

“Fine, we’ll go to the police station next.”  Clara agreed.

“It’s quite a hangout for the Ghost People,” Dean chimed in.  “You sure we need to stop there?”  His voice was light, but Clara could hear the undercurrent of anxiety.

“Sorry, Dean.”  Clara said as they walked along, following the locator on the map on Clara’s pipboy.  “Elijah says that’s where someone we need to work with is hiding.  And we could use the equipment.”  Clara hesitantly placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder.  “We’ll protect you, Dean.”

“So sure you can trust me, are you?”  Dean asked, his teeth a bit gritted, as he stared at Clara.  Those damned sunglasses obscured his eyes, but Clara could sense more fear than anger in his tone.

“I’d like to earn your trust.”  Clara replied honestly.  “Only way I know to start doing that is to trust you.”

Dean didn’t answer, but they resumed towards the police station after that.  Dean made a crack at every fountain Clara stopped at on the way, teasing her about greed, but she ignored it.

Along the way, the found messages scratched into the wall.  ‘Find me and we can talk,’ said one.  Another was left right next to the police station read ‘God can be found even in the smallest of beasts.’

“Odd choice of messages.”  Clara remarked.  “Find who?  And what’s this about God?”

“Some old tourist feeling religious near the end?”  Dean suggested.  “Some of your predecessors tried to leave helpful messages for others, but they always ended up turning their back on their partners at the wrong moment.”  Clara heard the resigned depression in his tone.  For 200 years he’d been stuck here.  For 200 years, meeting greedy person after greedy person, and not one of them had stayed altruistic in the end.  No wonder the poor man was a cynic.

They entered the police station, and as soon as they stepped forward, collars started beeping.  The group quickly backed up to the wall next to the door, and surveyed the room.

There were four desks in the room, two of them half buried in rubble.  On the left wall was a set of double doors flung open, showing what looked like a break room.  The far wall had a single door, shut and locked.  In the far right corner, there was a cell containing the supermutant Elijah mentioned.  His back was to them, and he was sitting on the floor muttering to himself.  They couldn’t see much of him, but what they could see of his thick, green-gray skin was covered in scars, excessive even for a supermutant.  In front of the cell was a small table containing the radio.  Probably the one that set off their collars.  Clara pulled out her rifle and quickly destroyed it.

“Ronnie, could you go check out that room?” Clara indicated the break room.  “Look for anything useful.”

“Got it,” Ronnie replied, making a beeline for the room.

“Hello?”  Clara said hesitantly, taking slow steps towards the supermutant.  “You in the cell, are you okay?  We’re not going to hurt you.”

No reply.  Getting closer, Clara could make out a few words of what he was muttering.  Something about a Master; pleading for his master… to do what, Clara wasn’t sure.  She turned to look at Dean, who just shrugged.  

“Search the place?” Dean asked.  “Maybe we’ll find something that makes him more talkative.”

“His cell’s locked,” Clara commented, frowning at it.  “Nothing I can pick.  We’ll have to try and find the key.”

“Done rummaging.”  Veronica said, rejoining them.  She nodded at the cell.  “He say anything?”

“Nothing.  Acts like he doesn’t even know we’re here.”

“What happened here,” Veronica muttered softly.

“Did you find a key to his cell in there?”  Clara asked.  Veronica shook her head in the negative.  “Search this room; keep an eye out for the key.  If we don’t find it, we’ll have to try that door.”  Clara ordered, indicating the remaining door.

They spread out and did just that, finding a few pistols and riot armor at the desks.  Clara and Veronica quickly put on the armor.  Dean, true to his word, remained in his unarmored suit.

Through the door were bathrooms, (one of which containing a suitcase hidden from view, which turned out to be a secret cache hidden by Dean; another pistol, some healing supplies, and a lockpicking kit) some cells, and a few offices.  The team gathered everything deemed useful and moved on.  Last was a set of stairs leading down to a basement.

‘God helps those who helps themselves.’ The same handwriting as before had scratched into the wall next to the stairs.  Clara stared at it for a moment, shrugged, and began down the stairs.

**Knew you would come.**   A voice came from the basement speakers.  It was a man’s voice, eerie and confident.  It made Clara a little nervous.   **Down below the cage, that’s where I am.  Maybe you saw the messages I carved into the walls?**

“Who are you?”  Clara called, walking slowly into the first room in the basement.

**In time.**   The voice replied.   **A little further now.  The one in the cage above is Dog.  I had to lock him up; he keeps disobeying me.**

The voice went quiet then.  They proceeded into the next room, stopping to destroy another radio, and continued through the basement as they searched for the cell key.

Another large room, assorted lockers and file cabinets with Sierra Madre chips, and various items that Clara quickly pocketed.  One door in the room led to a small storage closet, with more armor and weapons.  The other led to another winding hallway.

The hallway led to a small, dead end room with a table on the far wall.  The table had a radio, which Clara quickly shot with her new pistol, and a holotape hooked up to the speakers.

**That tape; that’s me there, on the table.**   The voice spoke again.   **If you are who I think you are, then you came to fetch Dog, to use him. I can’t allow you to talk to him yet.  Not until we talk.**

“We’re talking now,” Clara offered warily.

**Take the tape upstairs, play it for Dog with that pipboy on your arm.  Then we can talk.**

“How in the blazes does he know you have a pipboy?”  Dean muttered, thoroughly spooked.

“How in the blazes can you protect us from the cloud?”  Clara retorted.  “It’s called FEV; the forced evolutionary virus.  It’s capable of some pretty weird things.”

“Point taken.”  Dean replied.  Clara stepped forward, taking the tape carefully as though she expected it to bite her.  It did no such thing, and they went back upstairs.  They stood in front of the cage, with Dog still muttering inside to himself and ignoring them.  Clara put the holotape into her pipboy, and played it. 

**Dog, get back in the cage!**   As the tape played, the same voice from the basement speakers growled from Clara’s pipboy.   Dog’s behavior changed instantly.  His posture stiffened, and he stood and faced them.

“You aren’t who I was expecting.”  Dog spoke now with the voice from the basement.  “I’m disappointed.  Still, you clearly can take direction.”

“Who were you expecting?”  Clara asked.

“Don’t play stupid.”  Dog spat, exasperated.  “I already have to mind  _one_ child.  You must have figured it out by now.”

“Elijah.”  Clara murmured.

“Is that his name?”  Dog asked.  “Obsessed with the Sierra Madre, stinks of greed.  I had hoped to speak to him when I woke.  Instead, I just get his hands.  You’re the same kind of greed.  Followed the radio here, hoped for a score?”

“Something like that.”  Dean murmured, looking at Clara.

“Listen, assholes-“ Veronica began angrily.

“Ronnie.”  Clara stopped her, speaking softly.

“They can’t talk about you like that!”  Ronnie exclaimed.

“They don’t know me, Ronnie.  Let it go.”  Clara told her.

“What’s that name carved on your chest?”  Clara asked curiously.

“Dog.  That’s  _his_ name.”  The supermutant answered.

“Ohhh…” Veronica breathed.  “What was that called… I remember reading about it in prewar medical books.  Dissociative Identity Disorder?  This doesn’t sound like a usual case, though.”

“Once again, let me remind the room that he was infected with FEV.  Nothing’s normal where that’s concerned.”  Clara proclaimed.  “What should we call you?”  She asked the supermutant.

“ _His_ name is Dog.”  The Supermutant replied.  “Mine is God.  Don’t get us mixed up.”

There was a moment of silence in the room, and Dean started coughing.

“Umm,” Clara began.  “Sorry, but… we’re not calling you that.”

“It’s my name.”  The Supermutant insisted, looking annoyed.

“Then pick a nickname.”  Veronica muttered.

“Fido.”  Dean blurted out, once he’d gotten his coughing fit under control.

“I can go with Fido.”  Veronica agreed brightly.

“Yeah, that works for me.  All in favor of calling him Fido?”  Clara asked.  Everyone in the room but the supermutant raised their hands.

“This is ridiculous.”  Fido muttered to himself.  “ _Fine_ , Fido.  I’m working with children.”

“What are all those cuts on you?  We have medical supplies, if you need them.”  Clara asked, reaching for her pack.”

“Keep your supplies.”  Fido growled at her.  “They won’t help.   _Dog_ did this.  He inflicts pain on himself to silence me.  Tries to murder me out of him, but it only makes me angry.  He is a beast, little more than instinct.”

“How did you get locked in there?  Do you know where the key is?”  Clara asked.

“Of course I know; I locked him in here.”

“What?  Why?!”  Veronica demanded.

“I could feel him… getting hungry again.  If I let Dog roam, he gets into trouble.  Easts things he shouldn’t, obeys people he shouldn’t.  It’s safer for him in here.  For both of us.  I’d hoped that if I locked him in here,the one he obeys would come for him.  Instead, I got you.”

“Elijah.”  Clara murmured.  “Dog obeys him?”

“The old man reminds Dog of another Master, long ago.  So dog is the Old Man’s obedient servant.  Whether I wish it or not.”

“Did you bring us here?”  Clara asked.

“No.”  Fido growled back.  “ _Dog_ did.  I remember little of it.  If you’re wondering if I can bring you out of here, I cannot, even if I wanted to.”

“Where’s your collar?”  Veronica asked him.  “We all have these bomb collars.  Why don’t you have one?”

“Oh, I do.”  Fido replied, angry again.  “Dog ate it.”

“… how did he manage  _that_?”  Dean asked after a moment of disbelieving silence.

“The collar breaks down into pieces.  Dog ate them, one at a time, before I could stop him.”

“Umm.”  Clara said, trying to change the subject.  “If you locked yourself in there, you must know where the key is.”

“Of course.”  Fido replied smoothly.  “I have it around my neck, where Dog wouldn’t find it.  We don’t share everything, and sometimes that comes in useful.”

“If you won’t come out, I’m pretty sure we could help your companion unlock a door,” Dean muttered.

“Yes, you probably could.”  Fido replied.  “And then Dog would probably kill and eat you all.”

“He won’t if he hears Elijah’s voice,” Veronica supplied.  “And we have a holotape of his voice.”

‘Don’t you dare!”  Fido lunged forward, pressing against the bars and rattling them.  The group jumped a few steps back, startled and frightened by the sudden display of strength and anger.  “If you do, I’ll find a way out of this cage, and I’ll kill you all.”

“Okay,” Clara began, speaking softly.  “Calm down.  If you feel that way about it, then I promise we won’t play it.”

“You don’t dare,” Fido sneered at her.  “You think I’m afraid of your collar killing me?  I don’t care.  I’ll kill you all first.”

“I have the power to let Dog out of his cage.”  Clara reminded him.  “Let me prove our intentions; I won’t use it.”

“What do you want?”  Fido demanded, narrowing his eyes.

“Trust has to be earned over time.  All I’m asking, is you come with us willingly, and give me a chance to  _earn_ your trust.”

There was a long moment of silence, as Fido considered Clara’s words.  “I am not sure you belong here,” Fido finally spoke.  “No, I am certain you don’t.  Very well; I won’t obey the Old Man, but I will follow you.  For now.”

“Thank you.”  Clara said with a soft smile as Fido unlocked his cage.  “We still have one more member of our group to collect.  Will you come with us?”

“I think I will.”  Fido replied, eyeing the group.  “This should prove… interesting.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group has to find the last member of their team…

The group retraced their steps until they reached the wing of the villa containing the clinic, where the last member of their group was hiding.  The trip to that part of the villa was mostly uneventful, save for three walkers waiting for them.  There, Clara got her first good look at them.

They were encased head to toe in a chemical suit, the material something rubbery-looking than had a dull sheen in the low light.  The suit had a hood totally encasing their heads, and a rebreather over their mouths.  There was some sort of eyepiece over their eyes, giving the walkers’ eyes an eerie green glow.  The group dispatched them quickly.  Fido used just his hands and easiest ripped them apart.  He assured them after that Dog had a greater strength than Fido did; Fido had to expend a great deal of energy reigning Dog’s instincts in, and couldn’t exert himself as much.  Still, the supermutant’s strength was impressive.

A handful of steps into the wing, and their collars started beeping.  Everyone quickly backed up and scanned the area.

“Anyone see it?”  Clara asked.

“Must be on the second floor of one of the buildings.”  Dean commented after a moment.  There was a single opening in the courtyard to the left.  

“Screw it.”  Clara said.  “Just run.”

They hurried from courtyard to courtyard, the whole area a minefield of hidden radios and speakers.  Even a thick patch of cloud blocking their way at one point.  Finally, they found the entrance to the clinic indicated on the pipboy.

The inside turned out to be another minefield of hidden speakers and radios.

“Dean, the chief surgeon hated you.”  Clara commented at one point, reading a terminal on the top floor as the others searched the nearby rooms.

“Did he?”  Dean commented, idly amused.

“‘Domino stopped by to ask about the test results and Vera’s voice.  He seemed concerned she would lose her voice for the Gala Event.  I told him if Ms Keyes was concerned, she should see me, and I would only disclose any medical information to her.  I told him the Auto-Docs were more than capable of healing Ms Keyes voice if she developed any throat infection, and we could even operate if need be if she tore her larynx.  He seemed satisfied by the news, apologized, amazingly enough, and left a bottle of wine as a token of his appreciation.  I told him I felt it was inappropriate, he insisted.  I dumped it in the trash.’”  Clara read the entry aloud.

“Is this really necessary?”  Fido demanded, sounding bored and annoyed.

“The cheek!  I was making an effort, too!”  Dean replied, affronted.

“Well, the wine bottle’s still in the trash can.  Aged an extra 200 years, if you still want it.”  Clara bent over, picking the bottle up, and offered it to the ghoul.

“I think I will.  If he’s going to be so ungrateful about my gift, I’ll keep it.”  Dean proclaimed.  Veronica, leaning against a wall in the hallway, was nearly squeaking with silent laughter.

“You two.  Are ridiculous.”  Veronica finally said, when she’d gotten her breath back.

“Hey, you gotta find fun somehow.”  Clara told her, unable to keep a grin off her face.

Room by room, they explored most of the building.  Clara’s methodical pace took some getting used to, but Veronica and Roxie were experienced with it by now.  Clara had a small obsession with making sure they didn’t miss anything of value, and it had come in handy more times in the past than it almost got them killed.  They still hadn’t found the remaining member of the group, but there was one wing left on the main floor.  Unfortunately, the wing was a minefield of hidden speakers and radios.  Clara declared that they’d have to find and turn off the power before they could venture into it.  Clara pulled out a key they’d found in the chief surgeon’s office, and unlocked the door to the basement.

The basement, mercifully, was free of the speakers.  They pocketed the ammunition they found laying around, and turned off the power.

“We should be able to get into that wing now,” Veronica commented.

“Do we  _have_ to hang out around here?”  Dean asked.  “These speakers are trying my nerves.”

“We have to get our last team member,” Clara told him.  “We need one more person, according to Elijah.”

Dean was noticeably nervous, but they continued into the remaining wing.  There were about six small rooms in the wing, each containing only a single auto-doc (a small, person sized machine designed to take the place of a doctor; in reality, the machines had many issues, and most people hesitated to use them).  They checked inside each auto-doc, finding only scorched skeletons that had to be from before the bombs fell.

“Poor bastards probably thought the auto-docs could save them,”   Clara muttered sadly.

“We’re alive, and they’re not.”  Dean pointed out.  Clara gave him a Look, lifting an eyebrow.

“You’re positively cheerful, Dean, you know that?”  Clara deadpanned.

“Well, _I_  find that fact enormously comforting.”  Dean replied, smirking.

“If you two are quite finished,” Fido growled impatiently.

One room remained, with a broken auto-doc.  She had to be in there.  Most of the group waited just outside the doorway, peering in as Clara slowly walked in, opening the auto-doc.

A women fell out.  She wore a pair of worn dark pants, Clara wasn’t sure of the material, and a bloodstained white tank top.  The familiar bomb collar was around her neck; she was completely bald, and her face was heavily scarred.

“Christine?!”  Veronica exclaimed in shock, pushing into the room.  Christine stood, looking up at Veronica with an identical expression of shock.  Christine opened her mouth, trying to respond to Veronica, but no sound came out.

“The auto-doc,” Clara said.  “It’s broken.  That scar on your neck - it must have been trying to heal you, but it did something to your voice.”  Christine’s hand flew to her neck, feeling for the scar Clara had mentioned with a panicked expression.

“It’s okay, Christine.”  Veronica reassured her.

“Well, I take you two have - ow!”  Dean began, but Clara kicked him.

“Quiet.”  Clara muttered.  “Let them talk.”

Clara, Roxie, Dean, and Fido ended up waiting in the lobby of the clinic while Veronica and Christine talked.

“Christine is coming with us.”  Veronica informed the group solemnly.  Both women looked sad upon emerging, but Clara didn’t ask.

“Welcome to the group, Christine.”  Clara gave the new woman a friendly smile.  “It’s getting late; we should probably find a place to make camp for the night.”

“And how would you know what time it is?”  Dean demanded.  “You certainly can’t tell by looking at the sky.”

“I have a pipboy with a date and time stamp on it.  It’s currently 11:02 pm, in case anyone’s curious.”  Clara replied, glancing down at the device on her wrist.

Christine looked around the clinic lobby, looking a little spooked, then looked back at Clara and shook her head.

“I agree,” Clara replied.  “Not here.  But we should find a place inside somewhere so we don’t have to worry about the cloud.  Anyone know a nearby place?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team camps for the night, and tries to get to know each other better.

Dean, as it turned out, knew of a convenient place to camp and led them to the remains of a nearby shop.  There was a set of stairs inside leading to a second floor, but the roof was totally caved in, making it impossible to ascend the stairs.  They quickly made themselves comfortable, and Clara and Veronica divided up the medical supplies and checked everyone’s minor injuries.  Fido still refused any medical treatment, so Clara moved on to Dean as Veronica looked over Christine.

“What’s the story there, do you think?”  Dean asked Clara quietly.

“I think,” Clara began, hesitating.  “Ronnie mentioned something once, and she must’ve meant Christine.  I think… they used to be together.”

“Oh?  Did Veronica say why?”  Dean asked, his curiosity aroused.  Clara’s hands probed his side, handling the cut delicately.  Dean focused on the conversation, distracting himself from the feeling of soft hands touching him where no one had in a long time.  It took an effort.

“You’ll have to ask her, Dean.”  Clara replied, giving him a reproachful look.

“Christine!  How’re you feeling?”  Clara asked as Christine and Veronica rejoined the group.  Christine smiled at Clara and gave her a thumbs up.

“I did the best I could.”  Veronica told them.  “But fixing her voice… that’d take an auto-doc.”  Christine shook her head firmly at Veronica’s suggestion.

“After what you’ve been through, dear lady, I dare say I’d feel the same.”  Dean chimed in.  Christine gave Dean a wary look, not responding to his words.

“We’re all here because Elijah is making us work together.”  Clara addressed the group.  “I realize that trust takes time, but if we don’t make the effort to trust each other, it’ll get us all killed.”

“It’s usually trust that gets people killed here, Clara.”  Dean argued.

“Led many teams in the Mojave Wasteland, have you?”  Clara challenged Dean.  She dropped his shirt, finished bandaging his cut, and look him in the eyes.  “Because I have.  All I’m asking, is that we try.”

“She’s right,” Veronica said.  “There’s a few of us in the Mojave.  We’re all good friends.  Have to be.”

“Well, then.   _Partner_.”  Dean began, looking at Clara.  “The contents of the vault worth that much to you?”

“Okay, that’s it!”  Veronica exclaimed, furious.

“Ronnie.”  Clara warned softly.

“No.  I’m not going to let them talk about you like this!”

“You stopped her before,” Fido commented.  “What is it Clara doesn’t want us to know, Veronica?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to know!”  Clara interrupted, exasperated.

“No, she’s just too modest to say anything.”  Veronica finished, smirking fondly at Clara.  Clara gave an annoyed noise and rested her head in one hand.

“Clara isn’t here for the money.”  Veronica continued, turning her attention back to the others.

“That’s very easy to say,” Dean replied warily.

“She owns a casino!”  Veronica exclaimed.  “The last thing she needs is the caps!”

“Why come, if not out of greed?”  Fido asked Clara.

“Adventure.”  Clara replied.  “The casino thing is recent; I’ve spent most of my life traveling.  I’m a courier.  I like traveling.  And when I heard about the Sierra Madre, that no one’s ever come back from it, I thought it’d be fun to find out why.”

“Fun?!”  Dean demanded.  “Are you quite mad?!”

“Possibly.”  Clara replied, grinning at him.

“That doesn’t explain you, Veronica.”  Fido remarked.  “Just following a friend?”

Veronica didn’t answer, looking torn.  She finally glanced at Clara in a plea for help.

“Veronica is going through some personal issues right now.”  Clara answered for her friend.  “I was going to check out the Sierra Madre anyway, and I thought a good adventure might help Veronica sort through her problems.”

“You thought risking her life would help?”  Dean asked sardonically.

“It’s about priorities.  Risking your life has a way of helping you figure that out.  I thought it was worth a shot, and Veronica agreed.”

“Well, your turn, Fido.  Why are you here?”  Dean asked.

“I don’t know.”  Fido replied.  “Memory isn’t reliable.”

“Christine?”  Clara asked.  “If you’re comfortable sharing.  What brings you to Sierra Madre?”

Christine shared a glance with Veronica for a moment.  “She’s hunting someone.”  Veronica finally answered for her.  “She works for the Brotherhood of Steel.  There’s someone… bad, that they want dead, and Christine is tracking him.”

“Dean?”  Fido asked.  “You stink of the same greed that infects everyone else in the Madre.”

Dean just glared at Fido, not saying a word.

“He didn’t come here.”  Clara answered for him.  “Dean’s been here.”  Christine frowned, giving Clara a confused look.

“Oh, come on.  Don’t tell me you guys don’t recognize the name?”  Clara continued, answering Christine’s unvoiced question.  “Dean Domino?  The king of swing?  He’s been here since before the bombs fell.”

Nobody spoke for a few moments after that.

“Well, partner, your turn.”  Dean finally broke the silence.

“I already told you why I’m here.”  Clara replied, bemused.

“No,” Dean continued.  “I mean, your turn for medical attention.”  Veronica quietly stood and ushered the rest of the group to the other side of the store, giving them some privacy.  “May I?”  Dean asked, glancing at the riot armor she still had on from the police station, and waiting for her reply.  Clara smiled a little and nodded.

With Dean’s hands assisting, they quickly undid and took off her riot armor vest.  Unfortunately, they hadn’t found any other wearable clothes in the Sierra Madre.  As such, Clara was still wearing her jumpsuit.  And the only way to let Dean examine the cut on her back was to disrobe to the waist.  Dean took his coat off as she pulled her arms out of the sleeves, and offered it to her, looking away.  Clara didn’t put it on; but she held the coat up to her chest, touching him gently on the arm when she was covered.

Clara felt his hands on her spine and shivered.   _Because of the cold_ , she told herself firmly.   _I am absolutely not getting a thing for Dean Domino._

“Ticklish?”  Dean asked as he treated the long cut on her back.

“Don’t you dare!”  Clara threatened, trying and failing to keep the smile out of her voice.

“Fine, but I’ll remember this in the future, fearless leader.”  Dean teased.  Clara could hear the smile in his voice.  Dean continued to work, drawing a wince from Clara as he sterilized it, then carefully putting a bandage on.

A finger ran lightly up her spine, making Clara twitch uncontrollably and yelp.  She turned, holding the jacket to her chest with one arm and smacking Dean with the other.  He just gave her a wicked grin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team begins the first preparations for the heist.

The next morning was short and quiet; they ate a quick breakfast made most of trail rations; there were a few scavenged supplies from vending machines to add to the breakfast, but not much.  Soon, they were on their way back to the fountain.

“Good.”  Elijah greeted them.  “You’re all here.

“The owner of the Sierra Madre, for some reason, decided to key the Grand Opening to the Gala Event.”  Elijah sounded highly annoyed at this fact.  It seemed perfectly logical to Clara, but she didn’t mention that.  “There are several switches that need to be activated in the correct order.  As I’ve discovered, one person can’t do it.  To make matters worse, there are obstacles to each switch.  Obstacles you will need to overcome before you can reach those switches.

“The first switch, the one for the mute-”

“Her name is Christine!”  Clara interrupted Elijah with an angry shout.  Elijah stopped talking for a moment, then gave an enormous sigh.

“Fine.   _Christine’s_ switch is behind a locked gate.  You will need to find the chief engineer’s badge in order to pass.  I’ve marked the approximate location of his house on your map; try looking there.

“The third switch, the… ugh,  _Dean’s_ switch, is up a staircase buried in rubble.  I’ve marked the location on your pipboy of a maintenance storage locker; there may be dynamite stored there.  Find the dynamite, and free the staircase.

“The second switch, the one for the Supermutant, there is wiring needing replacing.  Fixing the other two switches will require going to maintenance storage locations; while you’re there, search for materials to fix or replace the wiring.

“Accomplish those objectives.  After, that is completed, I will update your pipboy with the switch locations.  Fix the switches.  Get your team to their locations.  Then, activate the Gala Event.  Once you are inside, the real even begins.  The vault will not be easy to reach.”

The hologram flickered and died when Elijah stopped talking.  Christine moved first, touching Clara’s arm and smiling at her.  Clara read the gratitude in her eyes and nodded back.

Clara lifted her arm and looked at the map on her pipboy.  “We’ll go to the villa first; look for the badge.  Gather all the supplies we can find, and then we’ll clear all the switches.  Together.  We’ll stick together as long as we can.”

***

They went back to the residential area of the villa, where they’d found Dean.  As before, the place was nearly empty of walkers, but the cloud was everywhere.

“I may be able to protect you all,” Dean commented.  “If you stay close.”

“We can walk around most of the place on the second floors.  Clara replied.  “I’d rather not tax your ability if we don’t have to, and some of those patches of cloud will be thicker than they look.  This is safer.”

That hadn’t been what Dean expected her to say.  He’d seen a lot of individuals and groups try to break into the casino over the years.  Even been a part of a few.  A few of them had attempted to make Dean feel welcome, but it had always been a ploy to get him to lower his guard.  As nice as Clara was being to them all, Dean kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.  They went back up the set of stairs, following the marker on Clara’s pipboy map.

“Dean,” Clara began as they walked.  Her voice was quiet; none of them wanted to risk drawing the attention of the walkers.  “Any chance you remember the chief engineer?”

“Not very well.”  Dean replied.  “Ran into him once or twice.  Industrious fellow.  Before you ask; no, I haven’t a clue where he lived.”

“Worth a try.”  Clara replied with a shrug.

They rounded the corner on a balcony, reaching the square with the chief engineer’s house.  It was mercifully clear of cloud, for the moment.  But it was filled with at least ten or twenty walkers.  Nobody spoke or made a noise, but they silently retreated a house or two until they were well out of earshot of the hoard.  

“Now what?”  Dean hissed, angry and nervous.

“Calm down.”  Clara replied soothingly.  “Roxie and I will draw the hoard away.  You guys sneak into the house and find the badge.”

“ _That’s_ our best plan?”  Dean demanded.

“We’ve done it before.”  Ronnie chimed in.  “Against things that can move a lot faster than walkers.”

“Won’t be so easy if you run into the cloud,” Fido added.

“He’s right.”  Dean said.

“Roxie and I can really haul ass when we need to.”  Clara reassured them, bemused at their concern for her.

Then again, the bomb collars made concern for each other required.

“I’m coming with you.”  Dean told her firmly.

“Dean,” Clara chided.

“No, it makes sense.”  Ronnie chimed in.  “If you run across the cloud, Dean can get you through it safely.  And he knows the area.  You won’t get backed into a corner that way.”

“All right,” Clara agreed, giving a sigh.  “Wait out of sight until Dean, Roxie and I have drawn the hoard away.  Then, hurry.  We don’t know how much time you’ll get.  Fido; when you all find the pass, think you can lift everyone back onto the second floor?  It’d be easier for you guys to come back the way we came than risk running into the hoard again.”

“It will be done.”  Fido replied enigmatically.

“Good,” Clara replied.  “We’ll meet back at the fountain.  It may take Dean and I while to shake the hoard, so we might not make it back until tomorrow morning.”

They returned to the balcony, everyone but Clara, Dean, and Roxie hanging back.  The three of them dropped down to the courtyard.

Well… not Roxie.  The poor rottweiler stood at the edge of the balcony, looking down and whining softly.  It turned out, the distance was too great for the dog to be comfortable jumping.  In the end, Fido came over, picked Roxie up, and carefully passed her down to Clara.

Dean raise his pistol as soon as they were in position, but Clara stopped him with a hand on his forearm.

“Wait.”  Clara told him, her voice barely a whisper.  Dean didn’t answer aloud, merely gave her an impatient look.  “If we’re gonna do this, we might as well do this right.”  She raises her left arm, playing with the dials on her pipboy.  Before long, a radio station was piping through the thing.  A Little Less Conversation by Elvis began playing.  Dean grinned despite himself.

“My kind of woman.”  Dean praised her.  Then the gunshots began.

Elvis crooning on the radio was enough to get the attention of a few of the hoard, but the rest quickly turned towards them when the group started firing.  Roxie stayed close to Dean and Clara, but attacked the stragglers as they got close.  They started backing up as the body of the walkers were moving towards them, backing away slowly so the walkers could keep up.

The hoard moved slowly, but followed the group.  Clara went with the occasional glance over her shoulder; the last thing she wanted to do was trip.  Before long, they were doing more running than shooting.

“Are you actually smiling?”  Dean demanded at one point.  They were a ways away from the apartment at this point; the other three had to be in the house by now.  Clara had switched off the radio once they thoroughly had the hoard’s attention, and now they were just focusing on keeping the right distance from the walkers.

“Aren’t you having fun?”  Clara asked, grinning at him.

“You have a strange definition of fun.”  Dean replied, but he couldn’t quite repress the infectious smile Clara brought to his face.

They rounded a corner, coming into another small courtyard.  There were three exits from it; the way they came, a narrow street filled with cloud, and a wider clear street.  They started towards the wide street, but quickly heard snarling.  A glance down the street showed another large group of walkers coming their way.

“Think we’ve given them enough time?”  Clara asked.  Her smiled faded, but her eyes still shone with excitement.

“It’s as much as they’re going to get.”  Dean replied grimly.  He grabbed Clara’s arm, holding her close to him.  “Come on.”  Dean led Clara and Roxie into the cloud filled narrow street.

The cloud was especially thick there.  Clara was grateful for Dean’s tight grip on her hand; if he hadn’t been, there was a real chance they would have gotten separated.  Roxie padded next to Clara, staying almost close enough to step on her feet.  She was grateful for the silent reassurance that her dog wouldn’t get lost.

The street was longer than they hoped, and Clara’s breathing started to get labored.  At least they couldn’t hear the hoard following them anymore.  Dean’s protection, he had warned them from the first, wouldn’t last for very long.  Clara could feel it waning, and tried to walk faster.  As Clara started coughing, Dean led her up a stairway.  Clara almost tripped up the stairs, but Dean’s grip on her kept her upright and moving.  They emerged into the apartment, and Clara heard a soft curse from Dean as they saw it was still filled with cloud.  Clara was coughing worse now, and she could hear Roxie coughing next to her, sending shot of ice water through her veins.  Dean led them further, through a crumbling wall and out onto a balcony, mercifully free of cloud.  Dean leaned Clara against a wall, standing in front of her to steady her.

“Cough into my shoulder,” Dean told her.  “The Ghost People might hear the noise.”  Clara leaned forward, burying her face in his suit as instructed, trying to ignore the lose embrace with Dean.

“Roxie,” Clara managed to rasp in between coughs.

“She’s right here,” Dean murmured, correctly interpreting the question.  “Perfectly fine and next you.”  The chill of the Madre was chased away with the warmth of his body close to Clara’s.  Clara had spent most of her life in or near the Mojave desert; it was only cold at night.  A campfire and a few packed blankets took care of that.  She wasn’t quite used to the colder ambient temperature here.  For the first time since Clara had woken up in the Sierra Madre, the nagging chill vanished.  She fought the powerful urge to snuggle into him.

Dean was miserable.  It had been over 200 years since he’d had an attractive woman in his arms; he was caught between the desire to taste her, and the odd urge to protect her (not something he felt often, and this one could certainly take care of herself).  He wanted to hold her closer, but was paralyzingly terrified to do so lest she detect the unfortunate situation in his pants at the moment.  Dean Domino could stutter excuses with the best of them, but doing so was a little undignified.

“Better?”  Dean asked, pulling back when Clara stopped coughing.

Clara nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.  “How do we get back?”

“Certainly not the way we came.”  Dean replied.  “I’m not risking taking you two back through that, and the Ghost People will only be waiting.  Let’s see where this balcony leads.”  Dean suggested.  Clara nodded, and they followed it around the corner… to a dead end.

“Perfect.”  Dean spat.  They were both keeping their voices hushed, trying not to attract attention.  The wooden railing on the balcony had rotted and fallen at the end, leaving a drop down into the middle of a patch of cloud.  Clara stared at the rooftop across from them, trying to measure the distance.

“I think we can make the jump.”  Clara told Dean.

“There? … perhaps.  Can Roxie?”

“Roxie isn’t a normal dog.  She’s stronger; she can make it, right sweetheart?”  Clara asked, with a fond smile for her dog.  Roxie wagged her tail in reply and gave a soft woof.

Clara took a few steps back, sending Dean and Roxie to the side to clear a path, as she ran towards the end of the balcony.  Clara took a flying leap, landing perfectly in a nice crouch on the exposed second floor of some apartment.  Roxie was next, backing up to take a running jump.  Clara perched at the edge of her floor in a crouch, ready to catch the dog if need be.  It wasn’t necessary; Roxie landed on top of Clara, pushing her human onto her back and landing atop her.  Clara had to stifle a giggle as Roxie gave Clara’s face a lick, before moving to let her stand up.  Clara ruffled the fur on Roxie’s neck again, and then it was Dean’s turn.  Clara moved to the edge of the roof again; to the side in case Dean made the jump, but ready to reach out to him.

“It’s okay,” Clara told him.  “I’ll catch you if I need to.”

Dean took a few steps back, same as the other two.  Then he ran forward and lept for the exposed apartment containing Clara and Roxie.  He made the jump, barely, and stood teetering on the edge for a moment.  Clara quickly stood, grabbing his jacket’s lapels and swiftly yanked him forwards.  He fell into her, grabbing her waist to steady himself as Clara stumbled backwards a few steps.  Clara’s hazel eyes were bright and fixed on his, looking suddenly oddly vulnerable.

_Fuck it_ , Dean thought, and leaned forward and kissed Clara.

Clara let out a soft, muffled moan and melted into him.  Her arms wound around his shoulders, and she leaned up onto her toes to reach him, kissing him back passionately.  He held her to him, taking some of the pressure off her toes, and nipped at her lips as he kissed her fiercely.

Clara started giggling into the kiss.  Mildly offended, Dean pulled back to look at her.  “What?”  Dean demanded; he was trying to stay offended, but her mood was contagious, and he felt himself smiling.

“‘A little less conversation, a little more action, please.’”  Clara replied, quoting the song they’d just listened to while running.  Dean started laughing, too, until they were both clinging to each other and giggling.  Dean turned his head, trying to recapture his lips.  They were only a breath away, when-

**That’s enough, the both of you.**   Elijah’s voice came softly over Clara’s pipboy.  Clara and Dean stopped, glancing down at it.  **I did not work this long to obtain the treasures of the Sierra Madre to fail now simply because of hormonal fumbling.  Get back to the fountain and rejoin the others.**

“‘Hormonal fumbling’?”  Dean muttered quietly.  “How long has it been since he’s had company?”  Clara snorted, giggling quietly.  Roxie, sitting patiently near the two, gave Clara’s pipboy a low growl.  “I couldn’t agree more.”  Dean told the dog.

They made their way down the stairs, into a courtyard clear of both cloud and walkers.

“Any idea where we are?”  Clara asked Dean.

“Some.”  Dean told her.  After 200 years stuck in the villa, he knew most of the streets.  He led them through the narrow, winding streets, avoiding most patches of cloud, until they found the now familiar entrance gate to the residential area.  From there, it was only a short walk to the fountain, where the others were waiting.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camping for the night, and Clara has A Plan.

“Well, the good news is, we’re all alive!”  Veronica greeted them.

“Oh, don’t tell me.”  Clara groaned.

“Sorry, but… more of those ghost things moved in, and we had to run for it.”  Veronica replied.

“Great.”  Clara said with a sigh.  “Well, at least we’re all alive.”

“We did find supplies to fix the wiring, though.”  Veronica pointed out.

“All right, well, let’s hit the maintenance shed next.”  Clara said.  “We’ll grab the dynamite and use it.”

“It’ll draw the dead like flies.”  Fido pointed out.

“Which might make the residential area a bit quieter, and we’d have a better chance of making it.”  Clara pointed out.  “Besides; the spot we have to blow up, we’re going to have to wait for things to calm down there before it’s safe to return, so we might as well get it out of the way.”

The maintenance shed with the dynemite was on the opposite side of the villa, closer to where Christine had been hiding.  The place was still a minefield of hidden speakers, and they had to make a series of mad dashes to make it to the few safe places in the area.  They reached the shed quickly, finding it mercifully intact.  The group rummaged through it, as quickly and quietly as they could manage, carrying away everything useful.  The dynamite was in a locked box in the back, and Clara quickly picked it, pulling out all the dynamite and storing it in her pack before they left.

By the time they made it back to the fountain, it was late.  The group decided to camp for the night.  In the morning, they’d tackle planting the dynamite and trying again to reach the chief engineer’s house.

Clara sat up late, lost in thought.  She’d taken the first turn at watch, and she kept turning her plans over and over in her head.  After about an hour, even the night owls in the group were fast asleep, and Clara had decided upon a course of action.  As quietly as she could, Clara grabbed and put on her pack, then walked over to wake Roxie.  The dog woke up quickly, giving Clara a confused tail wag and a head tilt.

“I have to go take care of some things,” Clara told Roxie, her voice barely above a whisper.  “I won’t be long.  I need you to stay here and be on watch.  If the Ghost People find you guys, wake the group up.  All right?”

Roxie gave a soft whuff, then whined softly and licked Clara’s hand.  Clara smiled fondly, petting her dog behind her ears.  “I’ll be fine.”  Clara reassured Roxie.

Then Clara was off, heading right for the southern area of the villa; where Dean’s rooftop would be, after Clara had set dynamite on the buried set of stairs.  Once she set the dynamite off, Clara figured, she’d be able to go right to the residential district, which’d be much thinner on Ghost People, and sneak in and out of the chief engineer’s house.  All of which would be faster and easier on her own.

The southern area of the villa was crawling with walkers.  Getting past them without attracting notice taxed even Clara’s abilities.  She silently cursed the Madre for taking the stealth boys from her; getting past the walkers would have been much easier with them.

After about an hour, Clara finally made it to the staircase in question.  It had taken numerous detours due to a group of walkers and patches of cloud, but she finally reached it.  She didn’t waste any time, didn’t even stop to loot the place.  She swiftly placed the dynamite at the stairs, lit it, and ran.

The long fuses on the dynamite had given her enough time to get clear of the blast, but that was about it.  Almost as soon as the sound of the explosion faded, she heard the familiar growling of the walkers.  Clara was in a large courtyard, and she frantically glanced around for a way out.

A balcony on one side of the courtyard, with a small fountain against the wall just under it.  Clara ran, hopping up the top of the fountain and barely managed to reach the floor of the balcony.  With a grunt of effort, she hoisted herself up onto the second floor.

Just a little too late.

A poorly aimed spear whooshed by her.  Evidently, one of the walkers had spotted her.  Clara didn’t look back, just followed the balcony into an apartment, into another maze of apartments and balconies.

Losing the walkers was surprisingly easy; yes, there were a lot of them, but they weren’t fast.  Once she lost them, however, Clara was hopelessly lost.  It took her over an hour of wandering, and some near misses with the walkers, but Clara eventually stumbled across the entrance to the residential area.

As predicted, the walkers were scarce in the district.  The cloud was another story.

Clara barely made it to the second floor, making a dash through a patch of cloud.  Fortunately, the cloud rarely made it above the ground floor, so she was mostly safe.  Moving slowly and quietly, in case of any lingering walkers, Clara made her way back to the balcony above the chief engineer’s house.  The courtyard was mercifully clear of walkers, but there was a patch of cloud very close to the house.

Clara dropped silently down to the ground floor courtyard, and padded over to the chief engineer’s house.  She searched the place methodically, trying to move as quickly and quietly as she could.  There were two floors; she started on the bottom floor, looking through every bit of furniture she could find.  As she looked, the cloud blew in, moving slowly but as inevitable as a glacier.  Clara tore apart every drawer of the furniture downstairs, even looking under the couch cushions (and underneath it, even moving it so she could look behind it).  Nothing.

As she looked, the cloud slowly blocked the entrance to the apartment.  The door was blocked with rubble, but the front wall was blasted open.  Clara kept glancing anxiously up at it as the entry grew smaller and smaller, until it was filled up with the cloud.

By the time Clara finished searching the lower level, she emerged from what had been a downstairs bathroom to find the entire floor filled with cloud.  She hesitated a moment; it was about five feet to the stairs; she took a moment to gather herself, then sprinted for the stairs, holding her breath the whole way.

She made it to the second floor without a lungful of death, thankfully.  Clara searched the upper floor, more concerned at this point with speed than silence.  The cloud advanced up the stairs as she searched.  Clara tried not to look too often, merely tracking its progress as she tore apart the floor as quickly as she could without making enough noise to attract the walkers.  The cloud continued to slowly advance, eating sections of the room as she frantically searched.  Finally, Clara found it, right on a desk at the edge of the cloud.  Clara quickly snatched it, stuffing it into a secure spot in her pack.  She took a few steps back then, surveying the area.

Half of the floor was now inside the cloud.  All access to the stairs was cut off.  Clara was sure the bottom floor was still soaked in cloud, making escape more difficult.  She moved towards the courtyard, looking out the window for any ideas.

It was worse than she thought; the entire courtyard was submerged in the deadly gas.  She tried to glance to the side; maybe she could make it to one of the other buildings.  But there weren’t and windows on the side.  There was the same awning covering the entire first floor.  Maybe…

“Having enough fun yet?”  Dean Domino’s familiar voice came from behind her.  Clara jumped nearly a mile in the air.  She spun, almost drawing her pistol, until she saw Dean climbing the stairs.

“ _Fuck_ , don’t sneak up on me like that!”  Clara hissed.

“If you were that oblivious, then you’re lucky I’m not one of the ghost people.”  Dean replied.  “You’ve certainly stepped in it now.”

“On the bright side, I found the chief engineer’s pass.”  Clara offered, gesturing to her pack.  “How’d you find me?”

“That bloody blast you set off woke me.  Roxie was less than helpful, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what you were up to.”  Dean chastised her.

“I can sneak around easier on my own.”  Clara explained.  “I figured I could get in and out easier alone.”

“Well, congratulations; you were right.  Have any plans on escaping?”  Dean snarked at her.

“Erm, no.”

“I thought not.”  Dean walked next to her, reaching for her hand.  “Fortunately for you, I do.  Which leaves only one question; do you trust me?”

“Yes.”  Clara answered easily.

Dean lifted an eyebrow at her.  “You may regret that.”  He told her enigmatically.

Hand in hand, they stepped out of the window onto the awning.  Dean led her to the side, and a short leap led them to the second floor of the next building.  Inside, there was a small staircase leading down away from the courtyard.  They went down the stairs onto a narrow street, and turned to follow it.  The street led to another tiny courtyard.  They stopped at the entrance to the courtyard, and Dean let out a soft curse; the courtyard was covered in thick fog.  It was impossible to see the far end of the courtyard through the cloud.  Dean wrapped an arm around Clara’s waist, and they waded in.  Clara had no idea where Dean was leading her, but soon they were in an identical street.

Dean led her through a maze of streets and courtyards, until they paused on a second floor.

“What were you  _thinking_?!”  Dean hissed at her, furious.

“I told you.  It’s easier to sneak alone.  I figured I could make it to the chief engineer’s house better alone.  So I blew up the rubble blocking the stairs, drawing the attention of the Ghost People.  Then I used the distraction, and snuck into the engineer’s house.  And it all worked!”

“Except for the cloud!”  Dean spat back, stepping forward into her.  “Have you given a moment’s thought what would have happened to the rest of us if you failed?!”

“Of course I did!  I wouldn’t have attempted any of this if I wasn’t sure I could do it!  I’m aware that our collars are linked, and I’d never do anything to risk your lives!  And the risk was less if I was-”

Dean cut her off; he took a last step forward, cupped the back of her head with a hand, and kissed her furiously.  Clara gave a startled ‘mmmfff’, pushed back against the wall.  Dean attacked her lips, taking commanding control of the kiss.  Clara tried to fight back, but Dean’s tongue pushed into her mouth.  His hand was buried in her hair, and his other hand slid down to grab her ass possessively.

Dean released her lips, letting them both gasp for air, and attacked her neck viciously.  He sucked and nipped hard at her delicate skin, making Clara go weak and forget how or why she should fight back.

“Blasted necktie,” Dean growled, Clara’s bomb collar blocking his descent on her neck.  He attacked her pulse point, drawing a stifled gasp from her.

The hand in Clara’s hair dropped down to her ass, and Dean swiftly lifted her in the air, pressing her between the wall and him.  Dean ground his erection into her, making them both moan softly.  Clara wrapped her legs around his waist, tilting her pelvis up and grinding up into Dean until he gasped.

Dean’s teeth bit back into her neck, pushing her back against the wall as he took control back and continued to ground into her.  Clara clenched the back of Dean’s jacket tightly, tossing her head back against the wall and closing her eyes tightly.

It had been awhile for both of them, so it didn’t take much grinding before they both gasped and came, stifling their cries in each other.  There was a long moment of silence and panting to catch their breath.  Then Dean released Clara and lowered her to the ground.  Without another word, he led her back to the fountain.

Everyone was awake.  Clara idly wondered if they’d all been woken up by the explosion and Dean had managed to talk them into staying, or if he’d just taken off and the rest of them woke up later.  It didn’t matter, she supposed.

“Clara!”  Veronica exclaimed, running up to her tired friend and hugging her.

“I’m fine, too.”  Dean replied irritably.  Roxie ran right up to Dean (for a moment Clara was afraid the dog would pounce on Dean; she somehow doubted he’d appreciate dog hair on his suit) and starting licking one of his hands.  Dean stared down at the dog, solemn and unmoved for about five seconds.  Then, he cracked a smile, leaned down, and pet Roxie gently.  “It’s nice to be appreciated.  You’re quite welcome.”  He told Roxie seriously.

“That was reckless, Clara.”  Fido commented.  Christine, not remaining idle, hurried over to Clara just behind Veronica, and inspected Clara for injuries.

“I’m fine.”  Clara reassured them.  “I’ll admit that’s mostly because of Dean, but still.  I would never have risked it if I wasn’t sure I could do it.  I’d never risk all of your lives like that.”

“She found the engineer’s pass.”  Dean chimed in.

“You did?  That’s fantastic!”  Ronnie commented.  Roxie let out a small yip of agreement, and Fido’s eyes kept flickering between Dean and Clara.  “Now, we should really all go back to sleep.”  Veronica continued hurriedly.  She pulled Clara with her to their bedrolls near the back of the small store they’d camped in for the night.

“What happened?!”  Veronica hissed at Clara as soon as they were in relative privacy.

“I blew up the rubble, then went and found the pass.  The end, good night.”  Clara summarized, crawling into her bedroll.

“Oh, no you don’t.”  Veronica chastised her.  “I know you too well.  Something happened out there between you and Dean.”

“Look, I was just a little embarrassed that I needed Dean’s help to make it outta there, all right?  I thought I had every aspect figured out, I was wrong, that’s it.”

“Oh, really?  Then how do you explain  _this_?!”  Veronica tapped her finger on a bite mark on Clara’s neck.  Clara yelped and flinched away.

“Ah-hah!  I knew it!  You guys finally did it!”  Veronica whispered triumphantly.

“I admit nothing.”  Clara replied firmly.  “Now I’m going to sleep, and you should, too!”

“I knew it, I knew it, I  _knew_ it!”

“Veronica.”

“Fine, fine.  But I totally knew it.”

***

On the other side of the store, a similar conversation was taking place.

“Will you stop staring at me?”  Dean demanded at Fido.

“You smell.”

“It’s not as though there’s a plethora of opportunities to bathe here.”

“Not like that.”

“Then, pray tell,  _what_ do I smell like?”

“You’d better not break her heart.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“As if you don’t stink of what you and Clara did out there.”

“Oh, don’t start.   _Nothing.  Happened._   She’d gotten herself into trouble, I had the opportunity to be dashing and heroic, and we both made it back to camp.”

“I care nothing for your excuses.  Just do not toy with her.  Or I’ll find you.”  On that chilling note, Fido rolled over and went to sleep.  Dean stared at the supermutant for a moment longer, before turning over and attempting to do so himself.  It took him considerably longer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team starts taking their places for the Big Number.

The next morning came late.  Although no one really noticed; the perpetual gloom made each part of the day look identical.  It was starting to wear on Clara’s nerves.  She quickly suppressed the feeling; she had to stay strong for the others.  They ate, then packed up and began their errands for the day.

First up was a small courtyard on the far end of the villa.  There was the switch that Fido and Dog were to stay at, and nearby was the wiring that needed fixing.  Between the cloud, and wandering groups of walkers, it took them an hour or two to reach it.  Veronica, Christine, and Clara immediately set to work fixing it while Dog, Dean, and Roxie lurked around, on watch for walkers.

“Dog getting hungry, master.”  Dog pleaded with Clara as she worked.

“We have travel rations, Dog.  Will those do?  We have plenty.”  Clara asked him.

“Dog  _hungry_ , master.  Dog want food.”  Dog replied mechanically.  Clara gave a sigh, sparing a hand from her work repairing to press a few buttons on her pipboy.  Fido’s command tape played, and in a moment Clara heard him approach her.

“Fido,”  Clara began.  “Dog’s been complaining that he’s hungry, but won’t answer when I suggest travel rations.  Do you know what he wants?”

“Dog is a carnivore.”  Fido replied.  “He’ll want meat.”  Fido wandered away from Clara, towards the switches behind the iron gate nearby.  “I… know this place.”

Clara dropped her tools, stood, and moved towards Fido.  “How do you know it?”

“Switches… Dog and I have been here before.  Set off those switches before.”  Fido replied.  That got everyone’s attention.

“Elijah’s set off the Gala before?”  Veronica asked.

“Yes.  With another group of bomb collars.”  Fido answered.

“Then why does he need us?”  Clara asked.

“I remember some of it now…” Fido trailed off, staring into the distance and trying to recall.  “He was trapped inside.   _Is_  trapped inside the casino.”

“So, he needs us to let him out?”  Clara asked.

“I doubt it.”  Fido replied with a dark chuckle.  “More likely, there are traps inside he was unable to get past.”

“So he needs us.”  Dean said.

“Nothing’s changed,” Clara broke the thoughtful silence.  “Not yet.  Elijah’s still holding these bomb collars over us; we have to keep doing what he wants, for now.  Once we open the casino, we’ll see.  Now, Fido; you said Dog needs meat.  Where can we find it?”

“Oh, any of the Ghost People wandering about.”  Fido replied.  “I believe I can work these switches, but I will need food to keep Dog’s hunger appeased.”

Christine tapped on the wall with a wrench, getting everyone’s attention.  There were three separate spots in the courtyard where the wiring had been faulty.  Christine pointed to the part she had been working on, then gave a thumb’s up.  She then pointed to herself, and then the part of the wiring that Clara had been working on.

“Translation?”  Dean asked, sounding a little bored.

“I believe Christine’s saying that she’s done fixing her part of the wiring, and that she can work on mine while I got look for some food for Dog.  Right?”  Clara asked.  Christine smiled and nodded.

“All right.”  Clara continued.  “Fido, you and I will go looking for some food for Dog.  Veronica, Christine, keep working on that wiring.  Dean, Roxie, stay with Veronica and Christine.  Keep watch so they don’t have to.”

Clara and Fido wandered a few streets away, seeking the walkers.  They soon found a group of three and dispatched them.  Clara leaned against a nearby wall while Fido proceeded to butcher them.  It was, for the record, exactly as disgusting as you’d think.  Clara studiously examined the architecture around them to avoid looking at it.

“Now that we’re alone,” Fido began.  “You have yet to give me a reason to attend my post.”  Clara bit her lip; it hadn’t occurred to her that Fido might balk.  He continued butchering, waiting patiently for her to assemble her thoughts on the subject.

“We have to trust each other.”  Clara began, wincing at her own words.  “I don’t like this any more than you do, but if we don’t do this, then Elijah will kill us all.  I don’t intend to take these orders lying down.  But until we get inside the casino, we don’t really have any options.”

“And once inside?”

“… I have no doubt that Elijah is eavesdropping on us right now.  So it wouldn’t make sense to detail any plans.  But I don’t think I need to go into detail for us to understand each other.”  Clara told Fido evenly, meeting his eyes.  Fido didn’t speak for a long moment.

“I was correct when I met you.”  Fido told her.  “You don’t belong here.  The madre is a cruel, unforgiving place.”

“And?”

“We understand each other.”  Fido replied, smiling a little.  It was a cruel smile, but it didn’t worry her.  It wasn’t directed at Clara.

The rest of the morning was anticlimactic.  The wiring was soon fixed, Fido made a meat doggie bag for Dog, and they left him there.  Clara was a little anxious about leaving Dog alone with no way to contact him if necessary, but they had little choice.  His bomb collar was in his stomach, so they certainly couldn’t use that.

Christine was next.  They made their way into the now unlocked area of the villa containing the switching station.  The place was a minefield of the cloud.  They quickly found a staircase leading up to the second floor, and started traveling the area on the awnings covering every building.  At least above the ground, the cloud was a bit more sparse.  It took awhile of wandering, (enough to make them relieved they’d found a path above ground; the vast majority of the area proved shrouded in cloud), they found a wide staircase to the switching station.

The switching station was a huge factory floor, with small offices and such high on the walls.  The entire bottom floor of the places was totally covered in cloud, thick enough to completely obscure the floor.  There were speakers everywhere; most of them were visible, and quickly taken out with a bullet, but for some, the group just had to run.  A few terminals they ran across took care of some of the hidden ones.

The final stretch of catwalks was broken down; the other side, visibly led to a break room, with a hallway leading who knew where on the opposite wall.  But there was a huge gap in the middle of the catwalk.  They paused, everyone examining the catwalk and the room for options.

“I wish Fido was with us,” Clara sighed.  “Most of us could make the jump, but I don’t think Roxie can.  If Fido were here, he could probably have carried Roxie.”  Nobody even considered leaving the dog behind.  

“There’s a staircase down there,”  Veronica suggested, pointing at it.  “If we backtrack, we can go down the stairs to the factory floor, run over to those stairs, and climb up?”

“I should be able to protect us that long, if we hurry.”  Dean agreed.  Christine bit her lip anxiously, clearly having misgivings about the plan.

“We’ll just stay together.”  Clara tried to reassure Christine.

“I know it’s silly, but we should hold hands.”  Veronica suggested.  “The cloud is super thick down there; two steps apart and we won’t be able to see each other.”

“Good idea.”  Clara suggested.  “Dean; you wanna lead the way?”

Roxie ran ahead of the group, doggie feet padding softly as they plunged into the thick cloud.  Judging by the sound of her paws, she made it to the stairs and safety before they did.  Roxie started barking, trying to help them find their way through the thick cloud.  They made it, not before everyone but Dean was coughing from the cloud, and paused on a high landing to catch their breath.  Dean crouched down and pet Roxie while they waited, studiously not looking at Clara.

_This is getting ridiculous_ , Clara thought.  She and Dean hadn’t spoken since… well, since their moment against a wall in the residential district.

They recovered, and headed up the stairs to the break room.  There was little of use in there, and they quickly moved to the door on the opposite wall.  The door with an iron grate covering it, locked with a key reader.  Clara pulled her pack forward, fished around in it until she found the chief engineer’s pass that she’d retrieved last night, and unlocked the gate.

At the end of the hallway, there was a small room with an elevator and a terminal on a small desk.  The elevator led straight down to the basement.

“All right, according to this terminal, down the elevator is the controls for the switching station.”  Clara told them, sitting at the desk and clicking through the terminal.

“Uh, we’ve got a problem there.”  Veronica said.  Clara looked up and back at the group.  Christine had her arms wrapped around her middle, looked back at the elevator, shivered and shook her head.  “Yeah, it’s super creepy down there, Clara.”  Veronica agreed.

“All right,” Clara replied.  “Hang on, let me see if I can find an alternative…”

“Got it!”  Clara said, smiling triumphantly.  “Okay, I transferred the controls to this computer.  You can activate… uh, whatever, from here.”  Clara stood and turned towards Christine, smiling at her.  Christine gave her a grateful smile back.

“Listen, you just stay alive until I come back, okay?”  Clara told Christine anxiously.  There was safety in numbers, and her little group was getting smaller by the minute.  Christine’s smile warmed.  She hesitated, then held out a hand for Clara.  Clara grabbed it without hesitating, trust and friendship passing between them.

“Clara,” Veronica said as they started back the way they came.  Clara and Dean stopped, and turned towards them.  “I, uh, I think I’m gonna stay here.”

“I mean,” Veronica continued quickly.  “I’m clearly the odd man out here.  There’s no place marked on your map for me to stay at.  And Christine can’t talk, so I’ll be here if you need to communicate with us.”

“All right.”  Clara told her.  “Be safe, you two.”

“Always.”  Veronica replied.

Then it was just Clara, Dean, and Roxie.

The terminal Clara had moved the switching controls to turned on a villa-wide ventilation system, clearing out much of the gas.  The factory floor was now totally clear, making their exit faster and easier.

The switching station had, mercifully, cleared out most of the cloud in the rest of the area, making walking around easier.  Some quick referencing of Clara’s pipboy map showed that Dean’s spot was on a rooftop.  Still walking in silence, they found their way back onto the rooftops.  

“Another hologram?”  Clara thought aloud, poking through a random terminal they’d run across in a cafe.  The computer screen blinked with an option to turn on a hologram.  So far, the only holograms they’d run across had been Elijah talking to them through the fountain, and a few store owners.

“Turn it on.”  Dean told her.

“What is it?”  Clara asked as she obeyed, standing to follow Dean out of the room.

“Holograms are part of the security of our charming little villa.  They shoot down the Ghost People.”  Dean explained.

“Huh.  That’s useful.”

“Indeed.”

“Wait,” Clara started.  “So that hologram over the fountain.”

“Vera Keys.”  Dean supplied.  “Sinclair’s favorite little plaything.  I introduced them, and he built this whole place for her.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Obsessive, if you ask me.”

“Bah.  You’re a romantic; you just don’t want anyone to know it.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”

“Anyway, Vera’s hologram.”

“Would have been perfectly safe to camp near.  She keeps the Ghost People away from the fountain.”

“Except for the cloud.”

“Well, all right.  Would have been safe for me, then.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?”

“Wanted to see the look on your face when you realized you took a lot of needless precautions around the fountain.”

“You’re an ass.”  Clara told him, laughing.  Dean just grinned at her, desperately trying to pretend he wasn’t entranced by the sound of her laughter.  He couldn’t think of the last time he’d heard such a joyful sound.

Well, actually, he could.  Against a wall in the residential district last night.

It took walking around most of the area, but they finally found Dean’s rooftop.  A nice, large, flat square in between buildings.

“Well.  At least we know why the old bat saved this one for me.”  Dean observed when they reached his rooftop.

“What do you mean?”

“Look at the wiring, there.  It’s cut.  I’ll have to grab both ends of it and let the current run through me.”

“Ouch.”

“It’d kill anyone else in our little group.”

“What about Dog and Fido?”

“You honestly think their skin isn’t too tough to conduct electricity?”

“Hmm.  Good point.”

“And we have another problem.”  Dean told her.  “As soon as the Gala starts, there’ll be music playing all over the villa.  It’ll draw the Ghost People to me in droves.  If you think I’m staying here for that, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“What about the hologram we found?”  Clara suggested.  “Won’t that keep the Ghost People out?”

“It’s a help.”  Dean replied thoughtfully.  “Tell you what; we find one more, and I’ll consider it safe.”

The next terminal controlling a hologram, it turned out, was right under their feet.  A few moments work, and a second hologram was turned on.

“Well.”  Dean commented as they returned to his roof.  “That should do it.”  Clara’s hazel eyes were fixed on him, and it made him anxious for some reason.

“You going to be all right?”  Clara asked.

“I’ve played for worse crowds than this.”  Dean replied, ignoring his anxiety and attempting to impress her.  “It’s you I’m worried about.  No doubt Elijah’s saved the worst post for last.”

“I’ll be fine.”  Clara reassured him with a smile.  She moved for the stairs down to the first floor, , ready to start for her post, with Roxie on her heels.  Dean stopped her; he grabbed her arm, and pulled her into him.  He cupped the back of her head, hesitating for a moment to give her a chance to pull away, before he leaned in to kiss her, slowly and passionately.

When he finally let her go, she gasped a little for air and stumbled a half step backwards.

“For luck.”  Dean told her.  “When this goes off, try and get into the casino without me?  You’ll wish you hadn’t.”  He’d been trying to threaten her, but his voice came out a little deeper and more sultry than he’d intended.  She swallowed, lust in her eyes, before she gathered herself and gave him a smile.

“Wouldn’t be any fun without you, Dean.”  Clara told him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara takes her place to start the Gala, and the team assaults the casino.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More really bad interpretation of someone with disassociative identity disorder. The game takes a very complex thing and simplifies it awfully. I tried to make it as better as I could, but I’m no expert. If you’re easily triggered by such things, be careful of this chapter.

Between turning on the switching station clearing out most of the lingering cloud, and turning on the holograms for Dean, most of the streets were empty as Clara made her way towards the belltower marked on her pipboy.  She practically skipped; she hadn’t come here for the treasure, but the excitement of the heist had her practically skipping.  Roxie easily trotted to keep up with her, giving Clara a doggie smile full of her infectious enthusiasm.

Clara easily found her way to the right part of the villa, but the streets in every area were all identical, and she quickly got utterly lost.

“Hey, Dean.”  Clara said softly, turning on her pipboy to Dean’s frequency.

“What’s wrong?”  Dean asked, clearly on edge.

“Nothing.  This place is just really creepy when you’re by yourself.”

“Tell me about it.  At least you have Roxie with you.”  Dean agreed through the radio.  Roxie gave a little woof at her name, wagging her tail.  “Yes, I miss you too, Roxie.”

“Tell me something.”  Clara asked.

“What?”

“Anything.  I just don’t like being alone here.”

Dean recognized the pang of loneliness in her voice, and couldn’t help but empathize.  For all of the tourists that had visited and died in the Madre over the years, Dean had spent the last 200 years utterly alone.  He launched into a tale, half invented, of some of the practical jokes he and the other singers had gotten up to over the years.  Dean’s collar echoed with the sound of her laughter, and he felt warmed again.

 **This is all very entertaining,**  Elijah cut into their conversation sarcastically.   **But Clara, you should have gotten to your post half an hour ago.  What’s keeping you?**

“I’m completely fucking lost.”  Clara replied, totally calm, over the radio.  Dean lost it then, sitting down on the ground and laughing so hard, he couldn’t get a word out.

**This isn’t a time for humor.**

“I’m not kidding!  All these fucking streets look alike.  For the past hour, I’ve just been wandering around and hoping I bump into the place by accident.”  Clara replied defensively.

 **Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?!**   Elijah’s voice was furious.

“You didn’t ask.”  Clara replied.  Bomb collars may have forced her to do as Elijah said, but they didn’t force her to be helpful.  There was a long moment of silence, and Clara continued to wander, suspecting that Elijah was just throttling his temper.  After a minute or so, Elijah came back over the radio and started giving Clara directions.  Dean kept laughing for a long time before he finally gathered himself and stood.  Maybe another half hour later, Clara climbed the ladder onto the top of the belltower.

**Can you hear me?  Damn transceivers.  Clara is the last one to reach her post.**

“We’re ready down here.”  Veronica’s voice came over the radio.  “Safe and waiting.”

“Dog and I are both waiting.”  Fido’s voice was next.  “I can activate the switches and keep Dog under control.”

“What are you waiting for?”  Dean spoke last.  “Strike up the band already!  You’d better be ready when you do; Ghost People will come in droves.”

“Let’s do this.”  Clara told everyone.  “In three… two… one!”

They all activated the Gala together, and the villa practically exploded.  Fireworks lit the air, and canned celebratory music came over the speakers.

Clara descended the bell tower in a series of controlled leaps, moving as quickly as possible towards the casino entrance that Elijah had marked on her pipboy.

Just as Dean warned, walkers popped out of nowhere as Clara ran through the streets, trying to recall half remembered turns that Elijah had told her to take.  It was like riding a rollercoaster; running, running, cloud, running… and stopping every few steps to take out more walkers.  After awhile, Clara decided they were slowing her down too much and just outpaced them.  The celebration music somehow contributed to the air of desperate urgency of the situation, and a rush of adrenaline had Clara stifling giggles.

Finally, Clara found her way back to the fountain, and the entrance gate to the casino.  She hesitated for a moment at the gate; once she went into the casino, Clara knew that everything would change.  With a deep breath, Clara pushed forward and went up the road.

***

Seeing as the entire villa was designed to not admit cars, the walk up to the casino was mercifully short.  Clara pushed open the huge double doors and entered the building with Roxie, excitement nipping at her heels.  She went inside, the doors swinging shut behind her, and just stared.

To Clara’s right, along the same wall as the doors, there was what had been a receptionist’s desk.  The doors were in the opposite corner of the wall.  A set of double doors opposite Clara were labeled “casino”, and another set of double doors to the right were labeled “restaurant.”  There was a large winding staircase in the center of the room, no doubt leading to more sections of the enormous building.

Clara had a moment or two to take this all in.  Then, almost instantly, she felt a little woozy, and collapsed unconscious to the floor.

Clara came to, she wasn’t sure how much time later.  Roxie, thankfully, was asleep beside her.  Clara stood, resting a hand on Roxie and gently shaking the dog awake.

 **Welcome to the Sierra Madre Casino.**   Elijah’s voice greeted her as she stood.  **Now that you’re inside, I can use the building’s security to speak to you.  Your “friends” tried to come rescue you, but the casino security knocked them out, just like you.**

“Where are they?”  Clara asked the room.  “Are they all right?”

**Perfectly fine, for now.  Casino security moved them around the place.  You’ll have to find them; they may prove useful.**

**Now, we’re all trapped in here since the security’s back asleep.  Look around; we’ll have to find a way to turn it back on.**

Elijah’s voice fell silent then.  Clara glanced around her, and made her way to the receptionist’s computer.

“Elijah,” Clara called, her voice staying quiet out of habit.  “This terminal can activate holographic security, but it’s asking for a code.”

 **There should be one nearby.**   Elijah answered her.   **Look around you.**

There was nothing in the huge receptionist’s desk; Clara methodically tore the thing apart.  She’d have to examine the other rooms.  She made her way to the casino to start.

The casino had a short hallway, leading to what looked like a large room with slot machines, and a short staircase off to the left that led up to a bar.  At the far end of the hallway, was a blue hologram just standing there.  On the right wall near the door, was a terminal.  Moving slowly so as to not upset the hologram, Clara moved towards the terminal.

 **Dean told you about the holograms.**   Elijah said.   **Unlike the ones in the villa, these will attack you if they see you.  If they’re blue, it doesn’t see you and you’re safe.  If it turns yellow, then you’re close to its line of sight.  If it turns red, then it can see you and is about to attack.**

“What do I do?”  Clara hissed in a whisper.

This one won’t attack as long as you don’t get too close.  Get to the terminal next to you; you can tell it to patrol elsewhere and sneak by it.  Don’t waste your time trying to attack a hologram; it won’t do any good.  You have to find and destroy its emitter.  It’ll be a small blue dome about the size of your foot.  Usually on a wall somewhere.  Shoot the emitter, you’ll destroy the hologram.  Once you get past the holograms, find the maintenance closet and use it to switch on the power.

Clara was busy at the terminal as Elijah spoke.  She managed to hack into it, (mostly with skills learned from Veronica) and read down the list of commands.  She told the hologram to go patrol ‘the floor.’  A peek around the terminal showed the hologram turning around and walking towards the large room with the slot machines.  While its back was turned, Clara quickly snuck up the stairs.

Glancing down over the railing, there was a grid of decorative posts in the room with the slot machines.  She quickly spotted two emitters; one on the far wall, and another on top of a post.  She shot them both, watching the two holograms in the room with the slot machines flicker and die, and moved on.

On top of the bar, was an ID badge that had belonged to the chief of security.  Clara quickly pocketed it, and moved on past the door behind the bar.  It led to a small maze of offices, all with destroyed terminals.  Finally, Clara found one with an intact computer, and logged on using the security ID badge she’d found.  She quickly found an email with directions to the maintenance locker (it was back in the room with the slot machines), unlocked it, and clicked off the computer.  It was a bit of a walk all the way back down to the bar, but once she made it, Clara hopped over the edge onto a pillar, and then to the ground.  A few steps over to the now unlocked maintenance closet, and she switched on the power.

The Sierra Madre Casino came alive.

There were holograms at every table now, ready to run the various gambling machines for customers.  Clara ignored them; she wasn’t here to lose her money.  Her first concern now, was her friends.  She left the casino area for the main lobby.

**Good, the casino’s coming awake.  Wondering what’s happened to your team?  Looks like casino security mistook them for guests and employees, moved them to other floors.  You’ll have to find them and recalibrate their collars, or kill them.  The bomb collars won’t work in between floors, and the radios are interfering with my systems.  I won’t be able to crack the vault until they’re neutralized.**

Now that, about the bomb collars, was interesting.  Clara quietly filed the information away for future use.

**I recommend you kill them; they’re of no further use.  But I’ll leave the decision up to you.  They hardly matter.**

Clara had her instructions.  More importantly, she had the knowledge that Elijah couldn’t make her do dick if he wasn’t on the same floor.  Fortunately for him, the first thing on her agenda already was finding her friends.

She headed for the restaurant next.  Had to start  _somewhere_.

***

She could hear Dog and Fido arguing the moment she went into the door.

 **The idiot supermutant is in the kitchen!**   Elijah hissed at her.   **It’s turned on all the gas valves and locked the door.  If you don’t want it to die, I suggest you find the key quickly.**

Dog, from what Clara could hear, wanted to die.  Fido was trying to talk him out of it, to force him not to, but wasn’t getting anywhere.  Clara heard Fido call her name, plead with her for help.  She grit her teeth and ran around the room until she found the key.  Mercifully, it was on the front desk of the room.

She ran to a side entrance to the kitchen, and snuck in as quietly as she could.

In the kitchen, Dog and Fido continued to argue.

 **There’s three gas valves.**   Elijah told her, quietly through her collar’s radio.   **Disable all three before the idiot blows up the building!**

The first one was right in front of her, and Clara quickly repaired them.  Sneaking around the room to get the other two proved much more difficult.  Roxie stayed near the door; the dog wasn’t nearly as stealthy as Clara was, and she’d just get in the way in the room.  She barely managed it; Clara had had quite a lot of experience sneaking past enemies too difficult for her.  She’d thought she was an expert at it… until she’d met Lily.  Lily was… too complicated to explain, but she’d taught Clara much about sneaking.  Clara used all of it, silently cursing the lack of stealth boys.  She didn’t want to think about what Dog might do if he saw her before the gas valves were shut off.

Finally, they were off.  Clara stood, and moved into Dog’s line of sight.

“You,” Dog said, recognition flickering in his eyes.  “Dog remember you.  You nice to Dog.”

“Hrrrnng,” the supermutant squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then looked back at Clara.  “Will kill us both if you don’t do  _something_.”  Fido pleaded with Clara.  “Never felt him so strong before.  He won’t listen to me!”

“Hungry.”  Dog was back, eyeing Clara with malice now.  “Dog will chase you, break you.”

“ **STOP!** ”  Clara yelled, with every bit of authority she could muster in her voice.  Dog and Fido both stopped, looking at her with wide, startled eyes.  “Dog,  **stay**!  Master will be very angry if you don’t.”

“Master?”  Dog asked, sounding meeker again.  “Don’t want Master to be angry.  Dog will do what Master wants.”

“Tell him to pull on the chain around his neck.”  Fido told Clara, fighting for control.  Clara looked down at the chain Fido mentioned; it was lined with sharp, cruel spikes.

“But that’ll kill you both!”  Clara pleaded with him.

“Hhhrrnn…” Fido grunted, struggling to speak.  “Don’t want to hurt you.  Kill us.”

“Master, please don’t be mad with Dog.”  Dog spoke again.

“Dog,” Clara began, speaking soothingly and wracking her brain for a solution.  “Master wants you to listen to my voice.”

“Dog is listening, Master.”  Dog replied obediently.

“We both are.”  Fido said.  “Tell him to  _listen to me!_ ”

“You have to stop fighting each other.”  Clara begged.  “Look at each other, really look.  For once in your lives, please, try to understand each other!”  Clara was shouting now, and a few tears ran unbidden down her cheeks.  She knew nothing about psychological medicine, and she could only pray to help them now.  Then again, this was far from a usual case.  They both trusted her; maybe that would be enough.

“Dog see voice,” Dog began, sounding astonished.  “Voice… voice look just like Dog.”

“You’ve hurt yourself.”  Fido said, sounding empathetic.  “Inside, you hurt so much.”

“Dog understand now.  Dog know what happened.”

“Step into yourself, Dog.”  Clara pleaded with them.

“If Dog…” Dog began, hesitating.  “If Dog obey, Dog cannot help if Master gets mad.  You nice to Dog, Dog want to help.”

“He’s saying that if we merge, we cannot help you against the Old Man.  We… we won’t even remember you.”  Fido explained, looking at Clara with tear filled eyes.

“Dog don’t want to forget nice lady.”

“I don’t want you to be under anyone’s control.”  Clara replied, openly crying now.  “Not even mine.”

Dog’s eyes went vacant, and she knew he and Fido were looking at each other again.  There was a moment that felt like an eternity.  Then… he collapsed.

Clara cried out and ran over to him.

“Are you all right?”  Clara asked as the supermutant struggled to stand.

“Wha- who are you?  What is this place?”  The supermutant asked her.  When he looked at Clara, there was no recognition in his voice.

“It’s a cage.”  Clara told him; her heart soared for him, and yet was broken.  Her friend didn’t remember her, just as he’d warned her.  “But at least there aren’t two of you now.

“I… I don’t know you, but I feel like I do.  I feel… grateful to you.  I’m wounded!  Forgive me, I’m in terrible pain.  I… I think I need to rest.”

“You rest.”  Clara told him gently.  “But this building won’t be safe for long.  Leave it as soon as you can.”

“I will.  And… thank you.  For whatever it is you did.”

“Anything for a friend.”  Clara told him smiling through her tears.

She left the kitchen then, forcing herself to focus on the next task.


	10. Showtime at the Tampico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara has to rescue Dean Domino.

Clara made her way back to the lobby, which was still eerily silent.  Roxie, padding next to Clara, whined softly and licked Clara’s hand, drawing a smile from her human.  She’d explored the casino and the restaurant, which concluded the downstairs.  Clara made her way to the winding staircase, which had probably been covered in a bright red carpet once.  Now, it was a dirty, scruffed, faded color that might have been dark red, where it hadn’t rotted away.

Upstairs, there were a couple of restrooms, all caved in, and two big sets of double doors; one directly in front of the stairs labeled “suites,” and one to the left labeled “theater.”  Clara smiled; if Dean Domino was going to be anywhere, it  _had_ to be in the theater.  Clara made for the theater, with Roxie following close behind.

Directly inside the theater, was a tiny waiting room.  There was a small desk with the remains of a terminal and a bottle of scotch hidden behind it.

The walls were covered in framed publicity posters; Clara recognized a few of the names.  She lingered on one, Vera Keys.  Beloved of the man who’d built the Sierra Madre, and Dean had talked a little about.

Another for Dean himself; Clara couldn’t help a little giggle over his mustache, and saw the title “the king of swing.”  She made a mental note to ask him about that sometime.  No doubt he had stories.

Clara continued down the winding hall, filled with more posters of long-dead celebrities, until it let out into the theater.

It was small for a theater, Clara thought.  She’d been in the remains of a few old theaters, and they were generally a bit bigger than this.  Then again, the theaters inside the casinos in New Vegas were generally about this size, so perhaps that was normal for a theater inside a casino.

Whoever had designed the theater had scattered seats all over, but they hadn’t squeezed them in every available space, making it much easier to walk through the place.  The stage had enormous curtains hanging on either side of it, and in the back middle was a small balcony raised above the rest of the stage.  On either side of the stage were small doors, probably leading to the backstage area.  On the same wall as the hallway Clara had entered through, there were two small recessed areas, where the wall gave, probably more areas for buying food and tickets and the like.  There was a set of double doors that Clara could see was locked from her perch at the edge of the hallway, and another door, Clara wasn’t sure where it led.  In the seating area, right against the stage in the middle, was a small table.  Clara walked up to it slowly, finding a key there.  She picked it up, and looked it over for a minute, before stuffing it in her pack.

“Partner!”  Dean’s voice startled Clara, and she looked up to see him on the balcony onstage.  “Nice to see a friendly face.”

“Dean?”  Clara asked, relief filling her voice.  “Are you all right?  How did you get here?”

“I’m fine, for the moment.  As for how I got here, no idea.  I suppose the casino recognized me.  At least someone still does.”

“How did you get back there?”

“Had to take a powder.  The audience is a bit murderous tonight.”

“What do you mean?  There’s no one here.”

“Holograms.”  Dean told her solemnly.  The blood drained from Clara’s face.

“Listen,” Dean continued.  “In a minute, those holograms are going to come out of the wings, and then you’re toast.  The door in’s probably locked, so don’t even try; you’d never make it.  As soon as we’re done talking, run for the door on the left; the key you got will unlock the door, get backstage.  We’ll figure things out once you’re there.”

“Right.”  Clara confirmed, tensing to run.  “Wait a minute; my left, or your left?”

“Hmm?  Oh!  Uhm, my left, your right.”  Dean chuckled nervously.  “Sorry.  Almost got you killed there.”  Dean’s eyes flickered behind her.  “They’re coming.  Time to run.”

Clara didn’t look behind her to double check what Dean said, she just ran.

Clara had to hop a banister, but she made it to the backstage door, and fumbled in her pack for the key, cursing her clumsy hands.  Finally, she managed to fumbled the door open, raced inside, and slammed the door shut behind her.  Clara quickly locked it, leaning against it and panting.

Only then to hear her collar give the beeping warning that a speaker was about to set it off.  Clara looked around frantically for all of about ten seconds, until she saw the speaker in question; right above the door she’d just come in.  A quick shot from her pistol, and it was in pieces.  There was a hallway shaped like half of a square; two 90 degree angles at either end, leading right to the doors out to the lobby.  Clara walked past a closed door, with a star on the door and the name, ‘Dean.’

And her collar started beeping again.

Clara looked around her, finding nothing.  She pushed Dean’s door opened as her collar started beeping faster.  All she saw inside his room was a table pushed against the far corner, with a radio on it.  Wasting no more time, Clara lifted her pistol, and shot it.  Mercifully, her collar stopped beeping, and Clara breathed a sigh of relief.

“Clara,”  Dean called.  Clara rounded the first corner; Dean was coming out of a doorway leading to what looked like a large room, and walking towards her.  “Sorry, I may have forgotten about the speakers.”

“Dean, I’m disappointed in you.”  Clara replied.  “It’s only been 200 years since you’ve been here; how could you not remembered every inch of this place perfectly?”  Clara’s reply drew a snicker from Dean.

“All right.”  Clara continued.  “What’s the plan?”

“Well…” Dean mused.  “We’ll have to turn off the security.”

“Elijah, you fuck.”  Clara said.

**When did this become _my_ fault?**

“It became your fault when you had me turn on the building’s security!”  Clara yelled at her pipboy.  “That power switch is all the way in the casino, you fuck!  It might as well be on the moon!”

“Calm down!”  Dean yelled, getting her attention.  “There’s a terminal controlling the security systems just in the theater.  If we can get to it, we can turn off security and we’ll be fine.  For now, at least.”

“Where is it?”  Clara asked.

“Ah.  That’s the difficult part.  It’s on the other side of the theater.”  Dean told her.  He lead her around backstage, and up onto the balcony.  “See that?”  Dean pointed up to a small room opposite them, at the top of the theater.  “It’s the projector.  Next to it, is a terminal that controls all the security in the theater.  Get to it, and you can switch it off.  There,” Dean pointed to a door on the ground floor of the theater to their left.  “Is the door leading up to the projector.”

“All right, but how do we get there?”  Clara asked as they retreated back down the stairs to the rest of backstage.  The floor had been swarming with hologram security.

“Trying to remember…” Dean trailed off, staring into the distance.  Clara stayed silent and waited, knowing he was searching his memory for something that would help.

“Right,” Dean finally said.  “Sinclair had these holotapes.  Recordings of us singing, of the audience, everything.  Used to use them for rehearsals.  If I turn one on, it’ll fool the holograms into thinking there’s a performance on, and they’ll temporarily switch off.

“I can turn it on.  But I’ll need to stay back here; damn thing was full of bugs.  We can’t risk it turning off when you’re in the middle of those things.  I’ll keep it running, you sneak over to the security terminal and switch it off.”

They had a plan.  Clara found herself grinning, despite their desperate situation.

“Excitement enough for you?”  Dean asked her, mildly amused.

“Don’t tell me you’re not having fun.”  Clara demanded.  Dean laughed and shook his head.

“Despite all my expectations, I’m afraid I am.”  Dean confirmed, smiling back at her.  “Now go.  Wait until you hear the music to start out for that door.”

Clara skipped off, going back to the backstage door she’d entered from.  She stayed there, pacing restlessly, waiting to hear the music.

***

The machine was on.  Dean had grabbed and loaded a holotape.  The audience was switched on; a quick glance had confirmed that.  And the music was loaded and ready.  But the singer wasn’t loading.  Why wasn’t the singer loading?  Dean fiddled with every button and dial he could, but nothing was working.  He contemplated hitting the thing; he hadn’t been a technician, back in the day, and hadn’t paid much attention to how these things worked.  Now, he cursed his inattention.

_Damnit_ , Dean thought.  Clara was waiting, and there was only one solution.

Dean was quietly terrified; he’d almost rather switch places with Clara right now.  But she couldn’t do this; only he could.

***

The music started; something lively, Clara didn’t recognize it.  She pushed through the door, steeling herself.

The security holograms were still there, but so was the audience.  The security holograms continued their patrols, but covered their eyes.  It certainly made sneaking easier.  Clara crept by them, moving as quickly as she dared.  In a moment, the singing started, and Clara stopped in shock.  

The singer - that wasn’t a recording.

Clara snuck around the corner, and the stage came into view.  Sure enough, Dean himself was on the stage, lively and singing to the hologram audience.  Clara had heard the surviving recording of his voice, so had everyone.  But it didn’t compare to hearing him, seeing him perform in person.  She stopped moving, unable to do anything but stare in shock and soak in the one of a kind performance.  She barely heard the lyrics; something about ‘jump, jive, and wail.’

Clara wasn’t sure how much time passed before Dean’s eyes, still shrouded by the sunglasses, met hers.

He was animated; there was a microphone up there; Clara doubted it still worked, but Dean still sang into it, danced with and around it.  But his eyes met hers; something evaporated in him when he looked at her then.  She wasn’t sure what, but his posture suddenly was straighter, prouder.  He sang… more, somehow.

She gave him confidence.

Dean’s eyes flicked around her, then he made a sharp gesture with his head.  The message was clear;  _get moving_.  Clara shook herself, forcing herself to remember what she was supposed to be doing.  She returned her attention to her surroundings.

And nearly tripped over a security hologram.  

It was narrowly avoided, but Clara studiously didn’t look at Dean.  She didn’t need to see his eyes laughing at her.

A few more steps, and Clara managed to make it to the door Dean had indicated.  She went quickly but quietly up the stairs; no security holograms here.  And there was the computer terminal, just as Dean had promised.  Clara sat down just as the song was ending, and she glanced up at Dean nervously.

The bastard tipped his sunglasses down and winked at her.

Clara hated herself a little for how weak that made her.  The music was quiet for only a moment, before ‘hit the road, jack’ started up.  Clara stifled a chuckle; appropriate.

The computer was locked.  Because of  _course_ it was.  Clara gritted her teeth; Dean couldn’t keep them busy out there forever.

_Oh, woman, oh, woman; don’t you treat me so mean!  You’re the meanest old woman that I ever have seen_.  Dean sang onstage, giving the performance of a lifetime.  Clara shook herself again, needing to force herself to concentrate.

But she still had a security badge.  Clara quickly reached around and rummaged through her bag until she found it, whipped it out, and logged in.

With the push of a button, the security holograms were turned off.  Just as Dean’s song wound to a close.  Clara stood from her chair, on legs a little wobbly now, and went back down to meet Dean.  He hopped off the stage and walked towards her, a noticable swagger in his step.

“Well.  Not a half bad performance after 200 years, if I do say so myself.”  Dean congratulated himself.  “What do you think?”

“You’re an ass.”

“Come on.”

“You know damn well what I think.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

“You know you want to.  Consider it your price of admission.  Say it, just once, for me.”

Clara sighed, finally raising her eyes to meet his.  “Dean,”

“Yes?”  Dean asked, smirking and stepping closer to her.

“… that was amazing.”

“Charmed, my dear.”

They stood there and stared at each other for a moment longer, before they both lunged at each other.

Clara’s arms were around Dean’s shoulders, clinging to him as his tongue pushed into her mouth, demanding control.  Clara fought back, trying to take control, but Dean snarled at her, burying a hand in her hair and pinning her against him.

As quickly as it began, the kiss was over.  Dean took a step back from her, his hand drifting down to hold hers.  Clara still couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but she could swear they were glittering.  It was an expression that made her nervous and excited all at once.

“Come with me.”  Dean said, pulling her along as he moved towards the stage.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pure PWP.

“You’re not gonna do this with those sunglasses, are you?”  Clara asked dryly.

“Patience.”  Dean replied simply as he pulled her backstage.

To his old dressing room.  Clara shouldn’t have been surprised.  She had a moment to take in the room; entry door in the corner, small bathroom and first aid area behind privacy barriers to the right, small cot behind more privacy barriers in front of her, and the remaining corner had a dressing table, mirror, and some chests.

Then Dean was on her.  He pushed her back against the now closed door, his fingers fumbling blindly at the catches on the armor they’d pilfered from the police station as he attacked her neck.  The back of Clara’s head thunked against the door as he nipped and sucked at her pulse point.  Clara’s breathing was shallow, and she barely noticed the thunk of her armor hitting the floor.  She stirred, trying to force herself to concentrate as Dean rutted his erection into her and marked her neck.  Clara freed a hand and managed to slip in between them, cupping his erection and squeezing it gently.  Dean growled and pushed her hand away.

“Dean,” Clara whined a complaint as Dean pulled back enough to start pulling the zipper on the front of her jumpsuit down.  Clara reached for his suit jacket, more than ready to reciprocate.  But Dean pushed her hands away from him again.  He pushed her jumpsuit down, trailing his hands along her legs and giving her belly a nip before she stepped out of it, determined to get his clothes off this time.

Dean produced a pair of handcuffs from a pocket ( _where did he pick those up?  The police station?_ ), swiftly grabbed her wrists and cuffed them behind her back before Clara could even give a protesting squack.  Dean ignored her protests and pushed her towards the cot in the corner.

Once she was sitting perched on the cot, Dean stepped back and started to disrobe.   _Finally_.  Clara sat where she was, watching eagerly.  Dean took off his suit jacket and deftly hung it up on a nearby coatstand.  He took off his bowtie and everything else just as slowly, like he was in no hurry as Clara watched with eager eyes.

The sunglasses were last.  Clara eyed his cock, huge and erect and weeping against his belly.  He turned away from her, giving her an eyeful of his ass, and reached for his sunglasses.  Clara ignored his showboating and focused on the view of his ass.  Dean set the sunglasses down on his desk, and turned to face her.  His eyes, Clara saw for the first time, were a brilliant bright blue that made her breath catch.  She couldn’t look away, until he was right in front of her.

Dean pushed Clara back onto the bed, climbing over her.  He planted his arms on either side of her head, supporting his weight as he descended eagerly back to Clara’s neck.  His thick skin felt rough against her neck as he sucked and nipped at her, almost certainly leaving marks that Clara couldn’t bring herself to complain about.  Her bound wrists, now pinned beneath her, tugged fruitlessly at the handcuffs as she moaned and writhed under him.

The first warning that she had that he’d moved one of his hands, was when she felt his fingers at her entrance.  His thumb stroked her clit, and his fingers deftly scissored inside her.

 **You both disgust me.**   Elijah interrupted.  They both froze for a moment; Dean dropped his head to the mattress and gave an annoyed groan.  Clara started laughing.  

“I’m glad you find this amusing.”  Dean snapped at Clara.

“He told me himself, the bomb collars don’t work between floors.”  Clara told him.

“Really?”  Dean lifted his head and looked suddenly mischievous again.

“All he can do is complain.”  Clara told him.

Dean’s fingers moved inside Clara again, making her forget all about their peanut gallery.

“Dean,” Clara moaned.  “We don’t have time!”  She barely managed to gasp the words from what his fingers were doing to her insides.

His fingers pulled out of her then, with a low grumble from Dean.

“Sadly, you’re right.”  Dean reluctantly agreed.  “If we make it out of here, I’m going to devote considerably more time to this.”  Dean’s hand planted next to her head again, and he met her eyes.  “Last chance to back out, love.”  Clara responded by leaning up and kissing him.  

He thrust into her, bottoming out quickly as she gasped into his mouth.  Dean dropped the kids, letting his head fall to her shoulder and groaned.  She felt him bite her shoulder as he lied there, waiting for her to adjust.

When she tilted her hips up into him, trying to thrust up from under him, he pulled his head up and met her eyes before thrusting her back down to the bed.

Clara fought the restraints, desperate to touch him, to roll him over and ride him.  But the handcuffs had held up too well over time, and her hands were staying where they were.  Clara’s eyes rolled back in her head as his cock kept brushing her gspot every time he bottomed out in her.  Clara felt his cock grow in her, as he approached the edge just as fast as she was.  With a cry of his name, Clara came, racing over the edge and dragging her with him.

Dean recovered before Clara did, pushing himself up from the bed, and rummaging around in his pack.  He emerged with a key, unlocking and removing the handcuffs, rubbing her wrists gently before he shoved the cuffs back into his pack.

They didn’t speak as they got dressed again; the weight of their current predicament came crashing back down on their heads, and any banter or promises just seemed… unwise.  

On the way out, they passed Vera Keys’ dressing room.  Hanging from a mannequin was a beautiful red sleeveless dress, long and elegant and shimmering.  Clara stopped, staring at it for a long moment.

“Tempted?”  Dean asked.  “It’s quite the dress.”

“A chance to get out of this fucking jumpsuit.”  Clara replied, pushing into the dressing room.

“I have to say,” Dean began as he helped her disrobe.  “The image; you robbing the casino in this dress, even with the armored vest and the boots.  It’s quite a fetching image.”

Clara laughed, turning around for Dean to zip up the dress.

“The Lucky 38.”  Clara told him as they put her armor back on.  

“Pardon?”

“The name of the casino I run on New Vegas.  If something happens, we get separated or something, come look me up.”

“I may just do that,” Dean purred with a grin.  “You have a habit of making life interesting.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find Christine, exchange stories, and the team gets reunited

Clara, Dean, and Roxie returned to the empty lobby.

“There’s the entrance.”  Clara told Dean.  “I already rescued Fi- uh, our Supermutant friend.  He’s no longer of two minds.  You should see if he’s still in the kitchens, then get out with him if you can.  It’ll be safer in the villa.  I still need to find Veronica and Christine.”

“Hold on a moment.”  Dean stopped her.  “You don’t think you’re going on alone, do you?”

Roxie gave an offended bark.

“Pardon, I mean without me?”  Dean corrected.

“I just thought,” Clara began, giving a puzzled frown.

“Partners, remember?  You’re stuck with me.  Now, we have two more partners to rescue.  Where shall we start?”

“Only place I haven’t looked at yet is the suites.”  Clara replied, giving him a warm, grateful smile.  This place was too eerie to be alone.

**No thanks to your… detour, but I’m almost through to the music files.  Go check the suites, you may be able to unlock something for me.**

“He’s all heart.”  Dean muttered as they walked towards the suites.

“Music files?”  Clara muttered curiously.

“I’ll explain when we have some privacy.”  Dean told her.

The double doors labeled suites just led to an elevator.  They entered it, miraculously still working, and quickly found the only floor not utterly caved in; the penthouses.

***

**Find the mute and deal with her.  She’s somewhere on this floor.**

The penthouse floor was fancy, a dark green carpet with a gold pattern on it, and walls covered in some sort of wallpaper with a faded red pattern.

“If this is who I think it is,” a woman’s voice came over their bomb collar radio.  Clara frowned; it sounded like Vera’s voice.

“This is Christine.”   Christine continued.  “Recovered.  I’m in what looks like an Old World hotel room.  Really fancy one.  The exit’s sealed, and all doors are locked down.  Security’s activated, and there’s holograms everywhere.  I’ll do what I can to help you from here.”

“Are you all right?”  Clara asked.  “Is Veronica with you?”

“I’m fine.”  Christine reassured her.  “And no, Veronica isn’t here.  She isn’t with you?”

“The casino separated us all.”  Clara told her.  “I haven’t found her yet.  I hoped she’d be here.  Everyone else is okay, though.”

“You’ll have to make your way to me.”  Christine told them.  “I’m trapped in here.”

“We’ll get you out of there.”  Dean reassured her.

The place was a maze of rooms.  Hallways lead to hallways; some were caved in, some were filled with cloud, rooms had walls knocked down, leading to other rooms.  Clara was incredible grateful Dean was there; he just grit his teeth and lead Clara and Roxie through the maze.  If Dean hadn’t been there, Clara and Roxie could have wandered for a hour or more before finding anything.

As promised, the floor was buzzing with a security hologram.  But unlike the other floors, none of them was the familiar outline of a security guard that they’d become familiar with.  Instead, they all took the form of Vera Keys.  And, heartbreakingly, they had her voice, too.  Apparently, she’d lived after the bombs fell, long enough to record a single message.

“Sinclair?!  Sinclair, I’m trapped.  Please, oh god, the security systems won’t let me out, they’re keeping me here.  I’m going to die here, amongst the ghosts.  I… I’m still being recorded by the holographic system.  Let go?  Let go of what?  I came so far to be here… now, now I just want to leave.  Please… let me leave.  Sinclair, is that you?  Sinclair!  Sinclair!  We all pay for what we’ve done.  I’m so sorry, Sinclair.  Sorry, I… I should have trusted you.  The doors, they… they sealed.  I… I can hear the other guests, screaming to be let out, to let go.  Sinclair, is that you?  Sinclair?  Sinclair, where did you go?  Why did you leave me here?  Why… I came so far to be here… now, now I just want to leave.  Please… let me leave.  Sinclair?  Sinclair, where did you go?  Why did you leave me here?  Why…”  Each Vera hologram repeated this message, continuously.  When they first heard it, they stopped and listened.

“God,” Clara breathed, her eyes filled with empathy and sorrow.

“She died.”  Dean said, not looking at Clara.  “After everything he did for her, she died alone and afraid.”  It was the first time Clara had heard Dean sound anything but cynical.  Clara didn’t speak, but she reached for his hand and squeezed it gently, receiving a squeeze in reply.  Roxie whined softly and licked Dean’s free hand, getting a smile from the ghoul.

They moved on, eventually finding a security room. Clara quickly logged onto the computer, mercifully shutting off the recordings and their message.  Dean led them around more, Clara quickly becoming utterly lost.  The pipboy didn’t help much in here, and without it she had a terrible sense of direction.

Finally, they found Vera Keys’ room, unlocking it with the key from her dressing room.

“Christine!”  Clara called, relieved to find her friend all right.  She rushed forward and hugged the other woman while Dean hung back by the door.

“You sound just like… like  _her_ , Vera.”  Clara commented.

“Do I?”  Christine asked.  “Sounds a little off to my ears.  That must be why I got moved here; it was her suite.”  Christine gestured towards the bedroom; through the open door, they could see a huge bed, and a chair in the corner.  The chair held a skeleton, dressed in the same evening gown that Clara currently wore.

“Vera,” Dean breathed almost silently.  He started to move into the bedroom, but then stopped himself.  The women stopped their conversation for a moment, waiting to see what Dean would do, before they continued.

“Now that you have your voice back, what do you want to talk about?”  Clara asked, awkwardly trying to lighten the mood.  This entire floor had been utterly depressing.

“The person I’m hunting, he’s the one who put these collars around our necks.”  Christine told them.

“Elijah.”  Clara commented.

“That’s him.  What he’s done here, it’s nothing compared to what he’s done in the past.”  Christine told them grimly, echoes of horrible memories flashing in her eyes.

“He’s… he’s Veronica’s Elijah, isn’t he?”  Clara asked.  “Her mentor, the one who practically raised her.”

Christine didn’t answer for a long moment, staring guiltily at the floor.  Then, “yes.”

“You knew.”  Clara accused, her voice soft and gentle.  “You knew from the moment we all met in the clinic.  And you didn’t tell her.”

More silence for a long moment.

“I didn’t know how.”  Christine pleaded, sounding torn.  “Elijah’s the reason we aren’t…”

“I know.”  Clara said.  “Veronica told me some of it, awhile ago.  And I guessed the rest.”

“I can certainly agree with you that he needs to die.”  Dean cut in awkwardly.

“Why didn’t you tell us any of this sooner?”  Clara asked gently.

“Wasn’t sure if I could trust you before.  I do now.”  Christine replied.

“Veronica isn’t here to say it, so I’ll say it for her.”  Clara began.  “We should try to find a way to end this without killing Elijah.”

“How can you say that?”  Christine demanded.

“After everything he’s done to us?”  Dean agreed.

“Because of the man he used to be.”  Clara told them, her eyes bright and clear with pity for Elijah.  “Because we don’t ever want to become like him.  And because once, a very long time ago, he meant a great deal to a friend of ours.  For Veronica, we have to  _try_.”

“I-” Dean tried to speak, not looking at either of them.  Guilt filled his expression, and he swallowed and stayed silent.

“You’re right.”  Christine said reluctantly.  “But I don’t like it much.”

“Christine, not letting go is what turned Elijah into this.  Don’t make the same mistake.”  Clara pleaded with her.

There was silence in the room for a long moment.

“The elevator down to the vault is through there.”  Christine pointed through another door.  “But it’s locked.  To lure Elijah out, we’ll have to go down it.  I don’t know how to open it, though.”

“I, uhm, I might.”  Dean answered.  “And I have a confession to make.”

“I’d planned to rob this place centuries ago.”  Dean began, moving to the sitting area and sitting on one of the couches.  Clara and Christine moved with him, each perching in an armchair.  They both watched the ghoul, listening attentively.  But Dean studied the rug, unwilling to look at either of them while he spoke.  Roxie, perhaps sensing Dean’s discomfort, hopped up onto the couch next to Dean and lied down, resting her head in his lap.  Dean couldn’t help but smile, gently petting the dog as he spoke.  “Sinclair was- he always thought he was better than us.  I needed to put him back in his place.  So, I introduced him to Vera, and set this whole thing in motion.

“Vera was working with me all along.  Sinclair set up the vault so only she could open it.  So, on the night of the Gala, she and I were going to rob the place and leave him holding the bag.  But then, the bombs fell, and I was locked out.  Didn’t have much luck getting into the damned place, until dear Christine came along.  I found her unconscious, probably Elijah’s doing.  I moved her into the clinic, and set the auto-doc to replace her voice with Vera’s.  I admit, the process took a bit longer than I anticipated.  I  _am_ sorry about that, by the way.  Suppose I hadn’t anticipated how frightening it could be to wake up without a voice.”

The room was silent as Dean finished his story, still petting Roxie and not looking at anyone.

“You’d planned on breaking into the casino and using Christine to get to the vault?”  Clara confirmed, her voice very gentle.  Judging by the look on his face when they’d heard Vera’s final message earlier, Clara had her own guesses as to Dean’s real reasons for wanting to rob the vault.  She didn’t bring it up, however; Dean was certainly entitled to his privacy.  Dean didn’t answer aloud, merely nodded.  Clara leaned forward and grasped Dean’s free hand, squeezing it gently and smiling at the eyes that lifted to look at her with near tearful surprise.

“Well.”  Christine finally spoke.  “Don’t get me wrong, I  _am_  pissed.  But… you were trapped here for 200 years.  If I’d been stuck here that long, I’d probably feel pretty entitled to that treasure.  Whatever you owe me, consider it paid in full.”  Christine smiled shared a smile with Dean, hers warm and accepting, and his tentative.

“Just do me one favor.”  Christine asked Dean.

“Yes?”

“Stop being a pansy and admit you’re falling for Clara.”  Christine ordered him bluntly.

Neither Clara nor Dean spoke; Clara’s eyes went huge.  She’d nearly admitted, privately and only to herself, how she was beginning to feel for Dean.  But she hadn’t fooled herself into thinking he felt the same.  Dean’s eyes were huge as saucers, and he didn’t say anything, not even a denial.

“Oh, please.”  Christine answered the denial Dean didn’t manage to say aloud.  “I’ve seen Clara’s neck, and we’ve  _all_  seen the way you look at her when she isn’t looking.  She’s about to go down into a death vault; let her go into danger knowing how you feel about her.”

“If you think I’m letting her go alone, you don’t know me very well.”  Dean told Christine evasively.

“Christine, there’s really no call for emotionally blackmailing Dean.”  Clara told Christine, trying to hide the heartbreak in her voice.  “I’m a grownup.  I can handle it.”  Okay, that was just babbling.  What was she supposed to mean by that?  Clara bit her tongue, trying to stop herself from saying anything even more stupid.  Dean heard what Clara didn’t say, and his heart shattered.

They may not get another chance.

Dean stood, pulling Clara to her feet with the hand that was still holding his, until she stumbled into him.  He cupped her cheek and kissed her, trying to pour all of his feelings into the kiss, everything he was afraid to say.  A few minutes later, Clara stumbled back, eyes fixed on Dean and looking dazed.

“Just stay alive.”  Dean ordered her.  “You and I have unfinished business.”

Somebody kicked in the door to the door to the room, making them all jump.

“This is all very touching.  But we have a vault to rob.”  Elijah said.  He stood in the doorway; he looked eerily similar to the picture projected at the fountain.  It felt like a year ago now.  Older, wild dark hair, beard peppered with gray.  He was wearing a dark blue jumpsuit, similar to the vault jumpsuits.  In front of him, was Veronica.  Her hands were behind her back, presumably tied, and she’d been gagged.

Elijah had a gun to her head.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I dunno what else to tell you, this is where the Important Stuff happens.

Everybody in the room was standing, staring at Elijah.  Nobody moved.

“You’ve all been nicely obedient pawns.”  Elijah sneered at them.  “I’ll take it from here.”

“Just stay calm, Elijah.”  Clara said slowly.  “Nobody’s going to try anything.  Just let Veronica go, and we’ll all leave and you can have the treasure.”

“Right now, dear Veronica is the only thing keeping me alive.”  Elijah replied.  “So.  Veronica and I are going down in that elevator.  You all are going to leave the building.  You may wait for her by the fountain.”

“Elijah,” Clara began, her voice still calm and soothing.  “We have no idea what’s down there.  We can’t let you take Veronica into that kind of danger.  Let her go, and you have my word you can go get the treasure without us interfering.”

“Nice try.”  Elijah sneered.  “But I didn’t get this far by trusting the likes of you.  Back away towards the bedroom, or I’ll kill her right now.”

“Clara, he’d never hurt Veronica.”  Christine urged, her voice tense and urgent.  Restrained anger filled her words.

“Christine, we can’t take that chance.  Do what he says.”  Clara replied.  They started to move, slowly, as directed.

A large green blur came out of nowhere in the hallway, surprisingly stealthy.  Elijah was ripped away from Veronica and lifted into the air.  Veronica gave a terrified, muffled cry and ran towards her friends, caught by Christine as the Brotherhood assassin quickly began to remove Veronica’s confines.

It was Dog.  Or Fido, or whatever he was calling himself now.  He held Elijah by the throat and pinned him against the doorframe.

“Listen to me,” Elijah rasped out against the supermutant’s efforts to choke him.  “These people tried to sell you into slavery.  I saved you!  Help me stop them!”

“Elijah, you lying  _fuck_!”  Clara called.  All the elation she felt at their rescue suddenly died, and she stared at the two in agonized suspense.  There was silence for a long moment as the supermutant considered his words.

“I don’t know you.”  The supermutant said.  “I don’t remember any of you.  But I know her,” he indicated Clara.  “I know she helped me.  If you’re hurting her… that makes you my enemy.”  The supermutant growled the words, and threw Elijah, hurling him against the far wall of the room with a sickening crunch.  Clara drew her pistol, pointing it at Elijah with a feeling of triumph.

“Give it up, Elijah.”  Christine said.  “You’ve lost.”  Elijah pulled himself to his feet, starting to laugh.

“Not yet.”  Elijah told them, an insane light in his eyes.  He pulled a glass jar from a pocket and threw it at their feet, shattering it.

Cloud.

A thick pocket of cloud emerged at their feet.  The effects were more intense, somehow.  In moments, they were on their knees, coughing and eyes watering.

Well, all except one.

Dean burst into action, leaping forward and grappling with Elijah as their captor tried to run for the elevator.  Clara tried to lift her gun, to help or at least track their progress, but she was too weak.  Blackness started to fill her vision, and the sound of Dean and Elijah fighting faded.

Somebody grabbed her waist with an enormous hand, and dragged her out of the Cloud.

Clara sat on her haunches in the hallway, coughing her lungs out.  She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes of tears.  She noticed Roxie first, the dog lying next to her, all right and coughing just as hard as Clara.  She heard other people coughing, and managed to look up; Veronica and Christine were nearby, all of them in the midst of coughing fits as they tried to recover from their brief immersion in the cloud.  Clara tried to speak, but she couldn’t get a word out.

“Take a moment to recover, all of you.”  The supermutant said.  He seemed to be the only one who escaped the cloud.  “I don’t know what that gas is that Elijah dropped, but it seems to be dissipating.”

“Dean,” Clara barely managed to croak out.

“Not here.”  The supermutant answered.  “The ghoul attacked Elijah, and they vanished.  I only just managed to rescue you all.  Was there anyone else trapped in there?”  Clara shook her head; save for Dean and Elijah, the entire party was accounted for.  “I saw the ghoul, Dean?  I saw him and Elijah retreat in a hall to the right.  Did someone mention a vault, or an elevator?  I believe they’re both down there now.”

Panic seized through Clara, and she tried to lurch to her feet and charge back into the cloud.  She didn’t stop to think, just acted on the raw instinct to run after him.  The supermutant caught her first, putting a hand on her shoulder and shoving her back down to the ground.

“Don’t!”  The supermutant growled at Clara, frightened by her near brush with idiocy.  “You can’t survive in that fog.   _Think_!  You can’t help him if you’re dead.”

“I know that stuff he used to make the cloud in there,” Veronica croaked, nearly recovered.  “It’ll only last for a bit.  It’s already fading, give it a minute and it’ll be clear.”

“Elijah has Dean.”  Christine sounded determined.  “We’ll get him back, Clara.  All of us.”

“No.”  Clara croaked, her lungs finally starting to recover.

“What?!”  Christine and Veronica demanded in stereo.

“Listen.”  Clara began.  “We don’t know what’s down there.   _If_  Sinclair put security down there, it’s gotta be holograms.  Numbers won’t help us there.  I can sneak past them, but it’ll be a lot easier if I’m alone.”

“You can’t expect us to let you do this alone?!”  Christine demanded.

“Christine, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to trust me to deal with Elijah without you.  Now  _listen_!  Veronica may have forgotten about the tech she installed on my pipboy, but I haven’t”

“Fuck!”  Veronica exclaimed.

“Yep, thought you did.”  Clara replied.  “Now, I’m still not convinced this place is stable.  Either way, the villa is safer; you can’t fight the holograms.  You can fight the Ghost People.  You guys all get to the villa, and find a working terminal.  Christine, Veronica, you two hack into my pipboy and the casino’s systems, and do what you can to help.”

“My usefulness has come to an end, it seems.”  The supermutant smiled at them, only partially hiding his sadness.

“Not remotely.”  Clara replied.  “The villa is still dangerous; someone is going to need to watch Christine and Veronica’s backs while they work.  Fight off passing Ghost People, warn them if the Cloud is drifting in.  Roxie can do some of that, but it’ll make a huge difference if you help.  That way they can devote all of their attention to the computers, and be much more effective.”

“That… that I can do.”  The supermutant’s smile was more confident now.

“Got it.”  Veronica said.  “We’ll back you up from the villa.”

“Be careful.”  Christine advised Clara.  “Don’t underestimate Elijah.”

“Clara,” Veronica started.  “I know… I know what Elijah’s become.  I know he may not give you a choice.  But, please, try not to kill him?  For me?”

“I’ll do what I can, Veronica.”  Clara reassured her friend with a smile.

“Wait.”  Veronica said.  “How do we get in?  Elijah had a way in, but he had to close and lock the elevator after him.  

“Well,” Clara began, exchanging a glance with Christine.  “Fortunately for us, Dean had a plan for that.”

“He gave me the voice to unlock the elevator.”  Christine said excitedly, her eyes lighting up as she remembered.  “What’s the password?”

“It’s lyrics from a song.”  Clara answered.  Elijah had had Clara retrieve the password for him, and she still remembered it.  “Begin again, but know when to let go.”

“Sounds like you.”  Christine said with a sad little laugh.

The cloud cleared then, and they stood and walked towards the elevator.  Christine cleared her throat self consciously, before she spoke into the intercom.  The elevator clicked when she was done speaking, the doors opening.

“All right,” Clara said as she walked into the elevator.  “Get going, you guys.  Stay safe.”

“You, too.”  Veronica said.  Roxie barked, wagging her tail.

“Kick his ass.”  Was Christine’s parting advice.  The doors closed between them, and the elevator started its descent.

***

The elevator took an eternity to descend, and Clara wondered how much of was the elevator being slow, and just how far down she’d gone.

“We’re in,” Veronica’s voice came from Clara’s pipboy.

“Clara,” Christine spoke.  “We found a frequency to speak to you that the holograms can’t hear.  So don’t worry if they’re right on top of you.   _You_ can still alert them, but we can’t.”

“I’m getting a warning.”  Veronica said.  “Looks like if you disable the security at the wrong terminal, the whole place shuts down and you’ll be trapped.”

“Can you do anything about it?”  Clara asked.

“I’m trying.”  Veronica said.  “I’m trying to lock the protocol out of certain areas, but it looks like it was designed to protect the vault from… something.  You’ll just have to be really careful with security when you get to that room.”

“Got it.”  Clara replied.

The whole place reminded Clara of the switching station, or one of the prewar bunkers that the local chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel used.  Metal hallway led to metal room led to another metal hallway.  One thing was sure; the elevator hadn’t been an express right down to the vault.  If Elijah had expected things to be easy from there, he’d been disappointed.

“There’s some kind of alarm blaring,” Clara said as she moved through the hallways.

“Elijah.”  Veronica said.  “I think he used something to disrupt the holographic security.  Whatever it was, it didn’t kill them.  They’re still active.  Watch your back.”

“Whenever you reach a terminal, plug your pipboy into it.”  Christine said.  “You’ll get a loading screen  on the terminal, and it’ll let us in.”

“Do I need to leave it plugged in?”  Clara asked.

“Nah.”  Veronica answered.  “The loading screen will come up in a second, and that means we’re in.”  Clara quickly found a maintenance terminal, plugging her pipboy in as instructed.  A moment later the screen came up, and she retracted the cable back into the pipboy.

“Can you do anything about this alarm?”  Clara asked.  “It’s annoying

“Not from this terminal.  Keep going, we’ll see what we can do.”  Veronica told her.

Clara kept going down the hallways, directed occasionally by Veronica and Christine.  She supposed they had access to a layout or something, and were able to tell her what turns to make.

“Keep stopping at the terminals.”  Christine encouraged her.  “There’s a ton of speakers around, and I’m able to disable them at each terminal you’ve been stopping at.”

“Got more info on the lockdown.”  Clara replied, frowning at a note she found on a desk.  “Note from someone who worked here; it says something about a deadman’s switch in the vault.”

“Anyone else getting the vibe that Sinclair knew he was going to be robbed?”  Christine asked.

“Yeah, it’s not just you.”  Clara confirmed as she moved on.

Finally, at a terminal Clara stopped at, the alarms shut off.  Clara breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” Clara told her pipboy.

“Stop, stop!”  Veronica replied.  Clara froze in a hallway, waiting.  “There’s a ton of holographic security ahead.  Looks like the terminals that shut them down are… in the room somewhere.”

“Clara, don’t speak; you’re too close to them.”  Christine instructed.  “But if you can sneak past them and find the terminals, plug in and we can shut them down.”

Clara grit her teeth, and took on the room ahead.  She quietly hated herself for moving so slowly; who knew what Elijah was doing to Dean right now.  It took her nearly a half an hour, but she managed to sneak past and disable all three security holos.

A broken catwalk blocked her way forward.  Clara quietly cured her decision to go forward alone.  The supermutant could have easily helped Clara across.  Then again, the supermutant could never have made it through the room with the holograms.

Clara took a running jump, just barely making it to the edge of the catwalk she lept to.  She almost fell, catching the edge of the floor of the catwalk with one hand.  Grunting with effort, and trying not to glance down at the cloud brushing her feet (it covered the entire ground floor of the place), Clara pulled herself up.

Finally, Clara reached the vault.  She couldn’t see Elijah.  She walked forward cautiously, pistol in one hand and senses alert.

“Not one step further.”  Elijah said. He came out from behind a dead turret.  Dean was in front of him, a gun heals to his head.  His hands were bound in front of him, he looked dazed, and there was blood seeping from a cut on his forehead.  Clara froze.  She slowly holstered her pistol, and let her hands rest in plain view at her side.

“It seems you’ll be of use after all.”  Elijah told her arrogantly.  With the pistol in his hand, he gestured at the door to the vault.  “Open it. There will be a terminal inside.   _Read it_ , but do not plug your pipboy in.  I will be watching.”  Elijah ordered her, jamming the barrel of his pistol into Dean’s wounded head and drawing a groan from his hostage.

Clara walked slowly to the door, and opened the door.

The vault was… large, for a vault.  Room for maybe three or four grand pianos in it.  The room was shaped in a half circle, with the door in on the middle of the straight wall.  In the corner to Clara’s right, was a state of the art auto-doc.  A table next to it was overflowing with stimpacks.  The far wall was covered in tables, overflowing with gold bars and a single terminal in the middle.  Clara’s eyes stuck on the terminal, and she moved slowly towards it.

She didn’t have eyes for the money; the whole time they’d been stuck there, Clara had been rummaging through terminals, nagging Dean for information.  All trying to find out the whole story behind this place.  She was close to the truth, she knew.  The last shot Clara would have at the rest of the story was that terminal.

She couldn’t plug Veronica and Christine into it, or Elijah would shoot Dean.  It was up to her.

Clara finally reached the terminal, and switched it on.  It opened to a menu with a single option; a letter.  Clara opened it, spending a long time silent as she read it.

“Well?!”  Elijah demanded impatiently from outside the vault.

“Hold on,” Clara replied without looking away from the terminal.  “There’s a lot of options here, and I’m not good at this stuff.”  Clara skimmed through the letter as quickly as she could, knowing her time was limited to find an answer before Elijah would come in and read the letter.

Then, she found it.  In a single sentence on the terminal, Clara suddenly knew how she would defeat Elijah.  A smirk found its way onto her face, and she quickly wiped it off.  She would have to play this very carefully.

“This… it’s incredible.”  Clara said, sounding astounded as she turned away from the computer and towards Elijah.  “You’ve gotta see this.”

“Back away from the terminal.”  Elijah ordered her, pointing the gun at her. Clara held her hands up and backed up to the center of the room.  Elijah shoved Dean aside, pointing the gun at Clara and sending Dean stumbling to the side and Elijah and Clara warily circled around each other.  Elijah turned away finally, facing the computer.  Clara knew they didn’t have much time. She made eye contact with Dean, and gave him an intense look.  Dean, his brain finally starting to clear, gave her a puzzled frown.

Clara’s eyes flickered to Elijah, making sure he wasn’t watching.  Then, with a still raised hand, she made a small beckoning gesture to Dean.  He lifted an eyebrow at her.  Clara gave him a pleading look, trying to say with her eyes that they didn’t have much time.

“What were you talking about?”  Elijah grumbled.  “I don’t see anything…”

Slowly, Dean edged forward into the room. Clara watched his progress impatiently, edging towards the door herself, hardly daring to breathe, until…

Several things happened at once.  

Dean finally crossed the threshold of the door, and there was an audible click from the terminal.  Elijah gave a roar, somehow knowing that Clara had double crossed him, and reached for his pistol and started to turn.  Clara  _sprinted_ for Dean; she knew they had a couple seconds at most.  Time seemed to slow was Clara dove the last few steps to Dean.  She heard gunfire behind her; Elijah got a shot out.  In front of her, the door started to close.  Too fast; Clara wasn’t sure if they could make it.  Clara impacted with Dean’s torso, knocking the breath out of him.  Together, they went flying backwards…

Making it out the door and landing in a heap on the floor just as the door clicked closed and locked.  Dean sat up, looking confused and woozy.

“What just-” Dean tried to ask, but just then, their collars started beeping.

“ **Get out of there!** ”  Veronica yelled through Clara’s pipboy.  Clara didn’t waste any time; she pulled Dean to his feet and they both sprinted back towards the elevator.

“Clara set off the deadman’s switch in the vault.”  Christine explained as they ran.  “I don’t know why your collars went off; Veronica and I are delaying them as long as we can, and we’re trying to hold the elevator, but we can’t keep it up.   _Hurry_!”

They picked up the pace, neither one speaking as they ran at full tilt towards the exit.  Veronica yelled out directions, leading them through the shortest path.  They finally reached sight of the elevator, just to hear it ding and start to close.  Clara and Dean dove for it, making it inside just in time.

The building shuddered around them, and Clara looked at the walls with alarm.

“Guys?”  Clara asked.  “I don’t know if the building’s gonna make it.”

“Stay in the elevator.”  Veronica told them, as the sound of walls falling grew.  “It’s the most structurally stable part of the building.  We’ll find you!”

The building fell around them, and soon, everything went dark.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue

Clara woke slowly.  Everything hurt.  She couldn’t quite manage to open her eyes.  Clara groaned, trying to force exhausted muscles to move.

“Easy!”  Veronica’s voice.  “Don’t try to get up just yet.  You’re okay, Dean’s okay.  We fished you outta there, and now you two are recuperating.”

Clara’s eyes fluttered open.  She was lying on a bed in a corner, in an apartment that was relatively intact.  She glanced to the side, to see Dean lying awake in another bed to her right.  He was awake, and his eyes lit up when he saw her look at him.

“Clara,” Dean breathed, a smile gracing his face.  “Glad you’re awake.  You had us worried there.”

“Not to mention, we’re all dying to hear what happened in there.” Christine said, smiling at her friend.  “Dean told us some of it, but he didn’t know what happened on that computer.”

“Chris!”  Veronica accused the other woman, giving her a glare.  “She just woke up!  Give her some space!”

“It’s okay,” Clara groaned.  “Long as I don’t have to sit up while I’m talking.”

“Deal.”  Christine said.

“The computer had a really long letter for Vera from Sinclair.”  Clara began.  “I skimmed it, but it said that she caved and told Sinclair about the heist.”  Dean made an outraged noise, but Veronica quickly shushed him.  “But he already knew.  Vera didn’t understand his clues, but Sinclair meant for Vera to find her way down to the vault.  He left everything she needed to be comfortable there for awhile, and it was far enough underground so she’d be safe from the bombs.  He wanted the emergency signal to go out; he wanted her to get rescued!  It just all went to hell because Vera never made it down there, and the emergency signal didn’t work.”

“Huh.”  Veronica said thoughtfully.  “I guess he really did love her.”

“Right,” Christine said impatiently.  “But what about Elijah?”

“It was right there, in his note to Vera.”  Clara said.  “Sinclair mentioned in the letter that he had a revenge planned for Dean.  And then it hit me; if I was Sinclair, and I hated Dean.  If I had unlimited money, how would I get revenge on Dean?  Simple.  Remember those warnings we found about the vault locking down and trapping people inside?  It was set to recognize Dean; the moment he set foot in there, it closed and locked, and would never open again.

“So, I tricked Elijah into looking at the computer, which is about as far away from the door as you can get.  Then I got Dean to come inside while Elijah wasn’t looking, and Dean and I made it out just before the doors closed.  Elijah’s alive, Ronnie.  I didn’t kill him.  But he’s stuck in there, trapped with the treasure he hurt so many people to get, and he’s going to stay there for the rest of his life.”  Clara finished, looking satisfied and proud.  The room was silent for a long moment, as everyone absorbed the news.

“Fitting.”  The supermutant spoke.  “He’s now stuck with the fate his greed bought him.”

“I thought so.”  Clara replied.

“But what about the money?!”  Dean demanded, looking a little put out.

“Dean.”  Veronica spoke.  “The woman you love is loaded.  You made it out with your life, and with Clara.  Take the win.”

Dean pursed his lips and stared at Clara, thinking.  “Well.”  Dean finally said.  “I suppose it could be worse.”

“I love you too, Dean.”  Clara replied with a laugh.  Dean’s eyes focused on Clara then, and she could see the love in them for her.

“Well,” Veronica interrupted the moment.  “You were right, Clara.  I’ve made a decision.”

“Oh?”  Clara asked, snapping her eyes away from Dean.

“I’m leaving the Brotherhood.”  Veronica said firmly.

“The Brotherhood was everything to you.”  Christine murmured.

“The Brotherhood won’t update with the times, and I’m sick of beating my head against a wall.”  Veronica said.  “If I join the Followers, I can use my knowledge to help people, which is what I really want.  Christine…” Veronica’s voice faltered for a moment.  “You could join me?  Elijah’s gone now.”

“I…” Christine met the other woman’s gaze, looking torn.  “I’m sorry, I can’t.  I’m staying here.  This place… Elijah’s gone, but the Madre is still too dangerous.  Someone has to stay here and protect it.  Warn anyone who wanders in of its dangers.  Dean’s been doing that for 200 years.  I think it’s high time someone took his place so he can leave.”  Christine finished, looking at Veronica with sorrow in her eyes.

“I,” Veronica tried to speak, her voice raspy.  “I understand.”

“Well.”  Clara said suddenly, startling them both.  “Then it’s a good thing the Followers have a base in the mojave nearby.  Veronica, you could come and visit Christine occasionally.  Say hello, catch up.  That kinda thing.”

***

The group, minus Christine, left the Sierra Madre as soon as Clara and Dean were well enough.

Veronica left the Brotherhood of Steel as she promised, and was welcomed into the Followers of the Apocalypse with open arms.  Although she never forgot the Brotherhood, she found happiness and fulfilment in the Followers, using her knowledge for the betterment of others.  She remained in contact with all the others, even frequently visiting Christine in the Madre.  But Veronica and Christine remained only friends for the rest of their days.

Christine stayed in the Sierra Madre for the rest of her life.  She continued to protect it, warning every traveler who came of its dangers.  In time, the Ghost People recognized her as one of her own, and allowed her to pass unmolested.  She saw frequent visits from her friends, reminding her that she was not alone.

Elijah remained trapped in the vault with all the treasure he’d fought for.  He had many tricks at his disposal, and he used all of them to try and escape.  But Sinclair had designed the place well, and none of them worked.  He survived for some time on the supplies Sinclair had left for Vera, but eventually he died in there.  Alone and unmourned.

The Supermutant stayed with Clara and Dean for a time, and eventually made his way to Jamestown where he was welcomed with open arms.  The doctors there were doing research tocure the mental illnesses common to supermutants.  His arrival brought a new face and new data.  His story inspired new avenues of research, and with it they were able to help many.  Lily, the grandmotherly nightkin that was a friend of Clara’s, took to calling him Jimmy.  The name stuck, and he kept it for the rest of his life.

Dean and Clara returned to the New Vegas strip to her casino.  Dean was surprised that so much of it survived the wars intact, and it brought a welcome taste of the old days back.  From time to time, Dean took to the stage to sing, and quickly became a household name again.  He brought back swing music, and would only perform at the Lucky 38, making his beloved’s casino the center of the social movement.  For the rest of their lives, Dean and Clara never left each other’s side.

Thanks largely to the support of Clara and her friends, the NCR won the battle of Hoover Damn and managed to annex much of the surrounding area.  Their supervision brought the higher taxes that many feared.  But it also brought the peace and stability to the area that was sorely needed, and most people prospered in the long run.  But that… is another story.


End file.
